Mistake
by SeanEmma4Evr
Summary: He wanted freedom. He wanted to have fun. He wanted a divorce. Now? Now all he wants is to get her back. Is her shattered heart too broken to mend? On hold indefinitely
1. Chapter 1: Now

**Mistake - Harry Potter**

_Pairing_: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley

_Rating_: M

_Summary_: He wanted freedom. He wanted to have fun. He wanted a divorce. Now? Now all he wants is to get her back. Is her shattered heart too broken to mend?

_Note_: Not entirely DH compliant (Sorry, couldn't kill Fred off!). Also, Harry is slightly OCC for the purpose of the story making sense (though he'll return to the "Harryness" we all know and love soon enough).

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Story based on the song: "She's Gonna Make It" by Garth Brooks.

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**Now**

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_Samuel and Abigail Granger cordially invite you_

_to witness the union of their daughter_

_Hermione Jean Granger_

_and_

_Ronald Bilius Weasley_

_Saturday, second of December_

_Seven o'clock in the evening_

_----_

_Due to couple's abundance of fame,_

_RSVP before the twenty-fifth of November._

_The location shall be delivered the day of the wedding._

_---_

When the owl dropped off the letter in front of Harry Potter's front window, Harry thought the bird managed to locate the wrong house. Naturally he knew about their engagement, for they'd been engaged for over a year. However, Harry hadn't spoken with Ron in nearly seven months, not since...

Well, since.

He figured - correctly - Hermione had a lot to do with it. He could practically hear her now, pleading with Ron to let their longest and closest friend come to their wedding. He could _definitely _hear Ron's huffs of annoyance as he acted indifferent (though he most definitely was not). Eventually she probably looked teary-eyed, only done in the most extreme cases, and he gave in if only to appease her. Harry knew Ron didn't want him there. He knew none of the Weasley family wanted him there.

Obviously it hadn't always been like this. In fact, for years everything had been great after graduating from Hogwarts. The war was over and he no longer dealt with the stigma of being "the chosen one" everywhere he went. Fame still followed him and people came up each day to ask for autographs, but he no longer dealt with the burden of worry. The people he loved were safe, which, in turn, made exhaling significantly easier. Ron and Hermione had been with him throughout it all and they started their lives together.

Dating Ginny at Hogwarts brought Harry more joy than he could describe. In a world of chaos, she gave him stability. Naturally when the war ended he asked her out again and they embarked on an incredible romance, with more love than Harry thought possible. After waiting a year following Ginny's graduation, Harry proposed during an intimate dinner, followed by a romantic broom ride.

A few months followed before Harry married Ginny, the only daughter of Molly and Arthur Weasley and the baby to six older brothers. The affair had been absolutely stunning with Ginny draped in white silk and lace, white flowers in her red hair, and no shoes. He thought her a vision. They laughed, cried, danced, and kissed, only leaving at the persistence of their hormones - Ginny practically assaulted him the second they were out of sight, attaching her lips to his in a searing kiss. They made love the entire night, waking up only to do it all over again and again and again.

Perfection.

A quaint apartment sucked them in just on the outskirts of Diagon Alley. Harry and Ginny invited Ron and Hermione over to help paint (though Ron hardly called it an invite; rather manual labor, something Hermione playfully smacked him for) and move furniture, with the help of their four trusty wands.

Picturesque and idyllic came to mind once the apartment was completed.

For four years they lived as a married couple doing things married couples do. They stayed in at night to experience the others' company, enjoyed the wonders of morning sex, spent quality time with the Weasley family and Hermione, conversed about anything and everything, relished moments of silence, and overall, gave themselves over to one anther.

Now?

Now they were divorced and leading separate lives.

Harry asked for the divorce. Ginny seemed bemused when he brought up the subject, much to his annoyance. He thought she'd at least take responsibility for some of their problems. Didn't she notice the rut they were in, the mediocre life they settled for? Didn't she realize his potential for happiness didn't begin and end in that house with her? Sure, he wanted some normalcy and he certainly wanted it at first (meaning after the war), but having it thrust upon him so quickly (after never experiencing it) caught him off guard. The coldness he felt for her turned into a blizzard once she asked him to tell her why, why was he doing this to the both of them. Slamming the door, leaving her after he watched her crumble to the ground in tears, Harry didn't look back.

Harry craved more excitement than she had to offer. Instead of staying in each night, he wanted to go out and have some fun with more than just her. Sure, he loved her, but the perks of married life weren't always as peachy as so many made it out to seem. He didn't think he'd lose his friends because Ginny needed him every second of every hour of every day. Suffocated, that's what he felt like. What's more, Ginny couldn't even understand where the anger was coming from. _Everything, in her eyes, _he thought with a sneer,_ was just bang on _(and he resented her for it).

The day after he left, he spent the night getting hammered at a pub, allowing the girls to approach him and make a pass. He snogged a pretty blonde, ignoring the gasps of the other women and the cheers from the man, all of whom were elated to see the famous soon-to-be-divorcé practically shagging some girl in the corner.

Harry waited three weeks before he finally slept with someone else. He'd only ever slept with Ginny and so it surprised him how different sex could be with someone else. Not better or worse, but just...different.

It bothered him that he couldn't tell whether that was good or bad.

For five months Harry partied like a quidditch player, allowing Golden Trio groupies to make a pass and succumbing to their charm. Waking up in random strangers' houses became routine, one which lost its entertainment value quickly.

Eventually the new house he'd bought felt far too lonely than he cared to admit. When they split up, he offered Ginny alimony, seeing as they were married for several years, but she turned the offer down. He thought she was just being stubborn and prideful, told her so as well, but still she did not accept any money. Ginny kept the apartment only because he didn't want it. The new house he bought suited him much better, a more bachelor pad type of atmosphere. Yet, loneliness crept up on him once the pseudo-happiness wore off and the same girls began to make him cringe.

Pride certainly played a factor in keeping him estranged from Ron and Hermione. When the divorce first occurred, Hermione maintained some semblance of friendship and support. Ron, along with the rest of the Weasleys, were downright hostile._ One of the hazards of your ex-wife being your best mate's little sister, _he'd thought at the time. Ron even had the gall to slug him the first time he saw him. Harry figured Ginny had something to do with it, a sort of revenge thing. Hermione later told him Ginny barely spoke a word about him and when she did, she only said good things. Only made the resentment grow - _it's as if she wants me to feel bad,_ he'd thought darkly, days after the divorce. Ron warned him he'd regret it, that he'd see the error of his ways eventually and it would be too late.

Harry's pride refused to allow him to admit it. At least, to anyone other than himself.

Five months since he left Ginny and each day became harder than the last. Sure the parties and the drinking and the girls had been fun at first, a blast even, but no longer. Now they didn't even serve as a distraction.

At first he only noticed the loss of big things such as the three in the morning sex, the kind where she'd wake him up in the most amazing ways. Then the cooking, another one of her many talents. Growing up with so many siblings, especially all with Y-chromosomes, forced her to learn the ways of the kitchen. Harry always loved coming home to smell bread rising or hear the tapping of her foot as she unknowingly used her wand, instead of a spoon, to stir the sauce.

Then came the smaller, more obscure things - the kind of things only a lover would notice. He missed the smell of her scent on his pillow, on his sheets, and on him. He missed the sound of her voice when she sang in the shower or the sound of her hum as she dressed herself. He missed the way she tucked her hair behind her ear or the way she bit her lip when nervous.

He missed her smile.

Naturally he couldn't discuss this with anyone, not even his closest friends. Ron sided with Ginny, mortified by the news at first but later growing angry at Harry for "first taking Ginny away and then throwing her back into the mud" which he voiced with a growl. Harry felt it slightly unfair how Ron didn't even take in his point of view, to even consider his feelings on the matter. He tried to explain to his oldest friend how things changed between them, how he no longer felt any spark, but the enraged redhead wouldn't hear any of it.

The rest of the Weasley family cut off ties with him as well. He became a pariah to their home. Molly and Arthur refused to talk with him, instead giving all their comfort to their daughter. Harry got the distinct impression Charlie and Bill wanted to throttle him the one time he spotted them in a restaurant in London with their significant others. If Fleur hadn't grabbed the sleeve of Bill's shirt, they probably would have succeeded. When he built up the nerve to venture to Diagon Alley for the first time, George and Fred stared at him with such contempt he thought he would die on the spot. Surely they couldn't 'Avada' him with their eyes.

At least, he hoped not.

Even Percy, the arsehole who turned their back on the family years prior to the war, managed to disdain him. Just another reason for him to avoid the Ministry.

Hermione, on the other hand, reserved judgment, doing her best to support both Ginny and Harry. Seeing as Harry no longer had contact with the Weasley family, Hermione made sure to fill him in on certain things. However, she never spoke to him regarding Ginny, even when he asked about her. Even broaching the subject about how Ginny was doing, what she'd been up to, caused a stir for Hermione. Giving him the typical "fine" came naturally.

She never led on just how much Ginny was hurting.

Harry knew, of course. Well, he'd learned of it about a month ago when he followed her for the day, determined to see her new life. After realizing she no longer worked for _The Prophet_, he ventured over to Diagon Alley and spotted her at a bookshop. Surprising, seeing as he knew how much she loved her job in the _Magical Gaming and Sports_ section. As a little spitfire, she promised herself and all the other reading witches out there that she'd bring female aspects to what men considered their sport. _Did they have some layoffs at the paper?_

Clearly the job was new for her, he could tell. Through the window he could see her having trouble with some of the transactions and appeared to get lost in some of the rows of books. The sight of her like that tugged at his heart.

An elderly man in a grey and yellow sweater approached her at around noon, the regular hour of a lunch break. Harry wished he could hear their conversation, but he settled for watching, noting the way the old man put a comforting arm around Ginny. The way he held out his arm, pointing to various aspects of the shop with a smile, no doubt informing her of all the potential the shop offered her, made him feel great gratitude for the man. Apparently Ginny needed the job and needed to hear whatever words he said.

Harry sat on a bench with a book in his hand, making sure to check frequently for any Weasleys and purposefully avoiding the gazes of fans, watching Ginny through the window. He watched her until five in the evening when she left, giving a small, meek smile to the same man and an older woman next him (probably his wife). Once she walked past him, her expression the epitome of despondency, he followed her, keeping a good distance between them so she wouldn't spot him.

Instead of walking to their old apartment right outside Diagon Alley like he thought she would, she went into the Leaky Cauldron and flooed to 'Quiet Grove'. Knowing the place, he followed her about a minute afterward and saw her walking a short pathway to some shabby flats.

"She lives here?" he said aloud, so baffled and confused he muttered it aloud.

He couldn't understand it.

He couldn't understand how she went from working at _The Daily Prophet _to working at some no-name bookstore.

He couldn't understand how she went from a nice, upscale apartment to some grungy, low-rent flat.

Harry couldn't understand anything about Ginny.

The whole time, too, she looked a dreadful mess. The Ginny he loved (_still loved!_) had been full of life, energy, and enthusiasm. He received the greatest comments about his wife; her vivaciousness, outlook on life, and general pleasurable company.

Now?

Now she looked half-dead, a shadow of the woman he married. A shadow of even the woman he left who just so happened lived a shadow of their life together.

He didn't sleep much that night.

Or any following night.

Each time he closed his eyes he saw her - saw her smiling at him over her shoulder as they took a broom ride together. He saw her dancing by herself in the kitchen, singing into the spatula along with the lyrics of a Janey Cauldron song. He saw her sitting next to Hermione in the living room, short black dressed hiked up dangerously high on her thigh, tempting him in spite of their company.

He saw all the things he took for granted.

Waking up in a cold sweat in his bed - his empty bed, his lonely bed - became an unwanted routine.

Harry felt completely foolish when the realization hit him - he'd lost his parents before he had the chance to know them. He lost Sirius, the only adult he truly felt loved him as a parent loves a child. He lost Dumbledore, his mentor and his ally, the man who died for the greater good and believed in Harry even when he didn't believe in himself. Even Dobby, a house-elf whose life mirrored some of the lowliest creatures in the world, died for him.

Now?

Now he'd lost the only woman he ever dared to love and all on his own doing.

Mistakes are made everyday, but not to this degree. Harry knew he never should have left her. He knew he never should have questioned his marriage, his only stability in life. Harry knew he never should have tried to stop loving Ginny.

He_ never_ could.

Now he had to venture to some wedding between his two best mates if only to attempt to salvage their botched friendship.

No, he refused to lie to himself further, to live in this world of deluded deceit. Shaking his head back and forth, an anxious gesture, he marched into his study to grab some parchment and a quill. Dipping the tip into the inkwell and then placing it against the smooth surface of the paper, Harry began to write:

_Things to do:_

_1. Get Ginny back_

_2. Get my life back_

_

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_A/N: Here is my first story (not one-shot) attempt at a pairing other than Draco/Hermione and first Harry/Ginny fic altogether. I've got most of the story mapped out - with a few tweaks in between - but I really like this one. This idea came to me yesterday in a sudden spark of imagination after listening to a Garth Brooks song. I highly suggest a listen so the story can make better sense. I apologize for this chapter - tons of information, I know - but I'm really excited about the next chapter! My other story,_ A Dream Worth Keeping_, should be updated soon!_

Mistake_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine._


	2. Part 2: The Wedding Night

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**The Wedding Night **

**_(Chapter 1 - Part 2)_**

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Hermione never came across as the "pink kind of girl" to anyone. Nobody expected her to want one hundred pink roses draped along every pew or lace and silk hanging along the ceiling. Nobody expected her to want a big dress of ruffles with a long trail of rose petals beneath her feet.

Since nobody expected such things, it came as little to no shock when they entered the back property of the Weasley family to discover a scenic setting of gold and blue. A hand-carved white altar stood near the rapid stream of crystal-clear water, white chairs placed neatly in order to have an unhindered view of the couple. A mixture of light blue (Hermione's favorite color) and gold (one of the colors of Gryffindor) silk intertwined in a pretty braid, which hung loosely on the aisle way chairs. A light blue carpet had been placed down the center of the aisle, ready and waiting for the bride to be. Silk tents draped from above, thin enough to see the stars.

Harry recognized several of the guests in attendance as he figured he would. While many were older, several he remembered from his own wedding, about half were people he knew at Hogwarts. He recognized Luna Lovegood, seated in the third row (Hermione's side, of course; for Ron still thought her kind of a loon) next to the Patil sisters; who were chatting incessantly beside a glum Lavender Brown. Harry figured she was still a little cheesed off at not collecting Ron's hand after Hogwarts.

Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan were all seated in the fourth row on Ron's side. The three men, all dressed in black suits, looked bored and sleepy, prepared to fall asleep before the ceremony ever began. Typical men, not caring about the marriage ritual but rather the reception to follow, and all the women who'd imbibe too much champagne.

Other Hogwarts alumni seated themselves throughout the rows of chairs: Katie Bell, Angelina Johnson, Hannah Abbott, and even some of the faculty. Professor McGonagall seated herself directly behind Hermione's mum, who was waiting impatiently with a muggle camera in her hand.

Realizing he'd been standing and staring far too long, he made his way to the last row and took a seat - on Hermione's side.

A collective gasp erupted before silence reigned, many of the attendants turning to stare at famous Harry Potter sitting in the back row. George and Charlie, both sitting in the front row next to their significant others Angelina and some cute dragon keeper from his reserve, stared at him with a loathing and contempt only reserved for the lowest of human kind. Harry figured their knuckles were turning white from the tight grip they no doubt had on their wands. Molly and Arthur didn't even grace him with a look, instead keeping their focus on the altar where Ron, Fred, and Bill just arrived. Harry caught Ron's eye and he knew in an instant that nothing had changed.

Hermione definitely fought to invite him here.

Then the music began and all eyes turned away from him and fell on the back doors of the Burrow. Once opened, Bill and Fleur's pretty daughter walked out, throwing white petals along the blue carpet, sometimes missing and hitting the guests. This only earned her more "aw, how cute!" and other phrases from the women in the audience.

Fleur followed, wearing a pale blue dress with modest straps and cut. Her long hair flowed along her back, curled in lovely tendrils that only heightened her incredible beauty. Harry figured Bill and Fleur were standing in because of their daughter, not to mention Ron's warm relationship with Bill. Ever since the war they'd grown rather close. Fred, the only brother unmarried (though he had a girlfriend) probably filled in for what should have been his spot. Harry knew that if the friendship hadn't gone sour due to the divorce, he would have acted as best man. Fitting when one thinks about the maid (what should have been matron) of honor...

Ginny.

Harry lost his breath at the sight of her.

Wearing the same pale blue dress, she glided across carpet with an ease only the most poised possessed. His green eyes cast down to see her toes peaking beneath the shimmery fabric and lifted up, taking in her luscious curves and beautiful skin, sweeping past the swell of her breasts until they finally landed upon her gorgeous face. It's been said that absence makes the heart grow fonder and now, in that moment, Harry finally understood why. As she passed, he caught a whiff of her familiar scent, the Ginny scent he'd been without for so many months. Harry thought he might melt right then and there.

Yet, in spite of her captivating beauty, the same defeated expression blotched her mein. Instead of conveying her happiness over her close friend marrying her big brother, Ginny appeared dejected, ready to collapse under the weight of her grief.

_Did I really cause all of this? _he thought with a hint of horror._ Did I really ruin my precious Ginny? Did I turn her into this shell of her former self?_

Then Hermione passed, obstructing his view of his love. Fleetingly he noticed Hermione looked amazing holding her father's arm, but his thoughts still revolved around his ex-wife.

Swiveling around to face the audience, Ginny gave Hermione a reassuring, albeit meek, smile as the bride reached the altar, kissing her father on the cheek and handing Ginny the bouquet of white flowers. The redhead kept her gaze on the couple, a melancholy look replacing her former smile. She hid it well, he realized, namely for the sake of the people watching her. Harry knew her well enough to know when she hid her feelings.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today..."

While Harry heard the words, none of it registered to him. All he could hear, see, smell, and focus upon was his ex-wife.

His Ginny.

Even as Ron and Hermione exchanged their rings and kissed to rousing applause, his attention fell on his red-haired girl alone. She clapped, though half-heartedly, before following the new Mr. and Mrs. Weasley down the aisle, her arm wrapped around her older brother's. Harry saw Fred whisper something in her ear, something that made her look up at him frantically, before continuing down the blue carpet. He figured Fred probably just informed her of his presence.

_Oh, great, _he thought.

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When he entered the reception, he instinctively took a step back and grabbed a hold of his wand. Never, in his entire life, had he entered a room and found himself this loathed. And this coming from a man who faced dozens and dozens of death eaters at once - the people who loved Ginny were infinitely worse than any dark wizards and witches supporting the Dark Lord.

Perhaps he could have chosen a better time to talk with Ginny.

Then again, it couldn't get much worse, so he might as well face her now. Taking in a deep breath, he strode down the center of the room toward the wedding party's table. His first thoughts were about Ginny, but he also needed to talk to Hermione and Ron, even if only to have Ron punch his lights out again.

He thought the groom just might.

Sitting together, a few people currently missing from the table, Ginny included, Ron and Hermione were leaned into one another. The happy couple whispered to each other, her hand in his lap, his on the back of her neck. While she still looked perfect, he already appeared more relax than at the ceremony. His wedding robes and jacket had been shrugged off, his tie hung loosely about his neck, his blue vest unbuttoned, the man content having his bride get all the attention.

Harry also caught the love-bite on the back of his neck. He chuckled a bit before he reached the table. His approach, however, cut the couple's happy moment short, Ron leaning back, his hand tightening on Hermione's.

"Ron," he said, by means of greeting. "Hermione, you look beautiful."

"Thank you, Harry," she said tentatively, casting a surreptitious glance at her new husband. The redhead didn't respond.

"Lovely ceremony. Traditional, but I guess I expected that of you."

"Yes, well, this ceremony was more for the Weasleys. We're having another ceremony when we get back from our honeymoon for my family. That ceremony will be for the non-magic folk."

"I'm sure you love that, don't you Ron?"

Again, Ron did not respond to him.

"Look, Ron, I'm trying. I'm really trying here and it would be nice if you would try to."

"Try what?" he asked viciously.

Licking his lips, Harry replied, "Ron, you were my first friend. You and Hermione are my best mates and—"

"And you screwed over my sister. I warned you. I told you not to hurt her and you did, physically, mentally, and emotionally. I don't even recognize the person in front of me. The only reason you're here is because Hermione wanted her oldest friend here."

"Ron," pleaded Hermione, her voice soft.

He looked at his new bride, tucking some hair behind her ear and leaning in to kiss her forehead. After murmuring something to her, he stood up and left the table, leaving Hermione alone to talk with Harry.

"We're never going to be friends again, are we?" he asked sadly.

"He's just looking out for his sister. He doesn't hate you, but he definitely hates what you did."

"I didn't...things change and—"

"Stop it, Harry," she told him firmly, rising to her feet and walking around the table. Standing in front of him, she continued, "I've seen the looks you've given her. I've seen the way your face takes on this sad, regretful look whenever her name is mentioned. Don't do this."

"I uh...it's not that easy."

"Harry, we told you this would happen. _Everyone _told you that eventually you'd see the error of your ways and realize what a precious person you've lost. You're too little, too late, and Ginny doesn't need this. Harry, stay away from her."

"Are you asking me or ordering me?" he asked, his green eyes battling her brown ones.

"I'm attempting to save you the use of your legs and Ginny..." she broke off, sighing and looking away.

"Hermione—"

"I'm glad you came to my wedding. I wouldn't have wanted you to miss it for anything. Thank you for coming." Leaning forward, she planted a kiss on his cheek before she moved beyond him, mingling with guests, making her way over to Ron.

Harry sighed, running a hand through his characteristic black hair, closing his eyes and fighting for control. When he married Ginny he'd had it all - the girl, the friends, the apartment, the normalcy. When he divorced her, he'd gained freedom and fun.

He had chosen poorly.

Turning around, he came face to face with his ex-in-laws. Arthur and Molly looked him up and down, duel disappointed expressions blaring at Harry like a 'lumos' light.

"Harry," greeted Arthur curtly. Warmth no longer emitted from him on any level, meaning the casual use of his name by way of hello merely came out of a sense of manners and politeness. The man thought less of Harry than a pebble in his shoe. Molly said nothing.

"Mister and Missus Weasley, it's good to...see..."

Before he could finish, the duo continued onward, leaving Harry standing there, feeling more an idiot than ever before. Realizing nothing would come of him staying, he turned on his heel and headed toward the door, doing his best to ignore the stares of Seamus, Padma, and all the other people he grew up with at Hogwarts.

All the people who thought his heart no longer existed.

Only once he reached the door did he stop short.

Ginny, frown on and eyes down, entered the room again, walking in the direction of the wedding party's table.

"Gin," he breathed, his voice sounding awestruck.

Hesitating for only a second, she responded, "Hello, Harry."

"How are you?"

"Fine," she replied, peering down at her feet, fidgeting uncomfortably.

Gulping, he told her, "You look beautiful. Stunning."

Even with her head down, he could see the blush running across her pretty cheeks. Still not looking at him, she responded, "Thank you."

And there it was - the sadness, the fear he himself implanted into the poor girl, dancing around him, practically laughing at him. He'd caused this; he'd done this to her.

"Um...the wedding was wonderful. I'll assume you helped quite a bit?"

Harry could tell she didn't want to talk to him, would rather rip her hair off and use the red strands as jump rope before she spoke another word to him. He admired her bravery in the moment for having the courage to stay strong and talk with the man who broke her heart.

She answered tentatively, "Not really. Hermione and Ron mostly did it together. I didn't want to get in the way."

"Ginny, you'd never be in the way."

Wincing slightly, she turned her head in the direction of her brothers Fred and George, both men in serious conversations with their better halves and a few friends, silently asking them to rescue her. Harry knew he should have let her get back to them, but after having such little contact with her after so many months...

"Ginny, I um...I was hoping we could...t—"

"Miss Weasley," came a low voice, interrupting Harry before he could speak with her further.

Turning her pretty head around, she stared at a man Harry didn't recognize. The protectiveness in him immediately flamed up, as did his jealous side.

"Good evening, John. How are you?"

"Very well, thank you. You look beautiful," he said with a grin, ignoring Harry completely.

"Thank you. Did you enjoy the wedding?" she asked, looking up to meet his eyes. Harry felt a sharp pang, considering she never once looked up at him during their conversation.

Nodding enthusiastically, he replied, "It was great. Though I must admit, I think you outshone the bride."

Blushing nearly the color of her hair, she shook her head at him. The man continued, "You're just being modest, you know, but I won't press you. I actually came to talk to you. Have you um...considered my question?"

"I don't know, John."

Harry didn't like the conversation, not one little bit, nor did he like Ginny's response. _What is he implying? Does he have his eyes on her? Does he want Ginny? Does she want him?!_

"Ginny, I'd um...I'd really like to continue where we left off."

"I'll think about it, John. Just know that I need some time. I'm not sure if I'm entirely ready just yet."

"I understand." Only when he gave this answer did he deign Harry with a side glance, a flash of abhorrence in his stare. "Owl me later?"

"Sure."

Flashing her another winning grin, he turned back around to return to a few other guests, leaving Harry feeling extremely annoyed. When Ginny turned around, he attempted to speak again, only to have her interrupt him.

"Gin—"

"See you around, Harry."

Without another word, she moved away from him, quickly trotting to the safety of her brothers. George put an arm around her once she reached their group, him, along with his twin, throwing Harry nasty glares.

No, this surrounding wouldn't do. The atmosphere clearly held too much tension, especially difficult when all the tension was due to him. He'd have to see her again. He'd have to wait until he could get her alone.

Giving Ginny one more longing glance, he turned around and left, much to the joy of all in attendance.

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Working up the nerve turned into more of a challenge than he anticipated. It was just his ex-wife, for Merlin's sake, not the damn Minister of Magic. Yes, knocking on the Minister's door, even when you're Harry Potter, would have been a little inappropriate at ten in the evening. Ginny, on the other hand...

Okay, still inappropriate, but the wedding reception only just dispersed and she just entered her home, tired and wrung out from emotion.

Knocking on the door, he held his breath, hoping she'd answer the door; further hoping that if and when she answered the door, she wouldn't slam it back on his face. Though, when being honest, if he was her, he probably would.

Harry didn't even exhale the breath once she opened the door - he lost it.

With her haired pulled back in a low, loose ponytail, she wore a pair of grey sleeping shorts and an old T-shirt; one of his.

"Harry?" she asked aloud, her brows knit in confusion, her lips pulled down into a fierce frown.

"Yeah, love," he whispered, the endearment slipping out before he could quell it. He told himself not to start out to strong, knowing it would probably drive her away, but sometimes he just couldn't help himself. There were times when he used to come home to find her looking like that - so beautiful in comfort clothes.

"What are you doing here, Harry?" she asked, her voice dazed and befuddled.

Anxiously running his hand through his untidy hair for about the umpteenth time, he told her, "I had to see you. We didn't get a chance to talk at the wedding and I um...I'd really like to talk to you."

Looking over her shoulder, as if checking to see if Harry was talking to someone standing behind her, she turned back and muttered, "I uh...guess. Sure?"

Even with her final word coming out a question, she moved aside, allowing him to enter. Stepping in, he heard her close the door before he turned around. With his eyes on her, she cautiously asked, "What can I um...what can I help you with, Harry?"

Though she raised her head, her eyes were miles away, focused on the wall behind him rather than on his own jade eyes. It almost felt as though she placed a shield in front of her sweet orbs, guarding herself from further pain and torment. _It's only been seven months! How can she possibly be this destroyed?_

"I had to see you."

"Why?"

"Well, Gin, we never really got to talk at the wedding. I would really like to talk to you."

Harry's heart clenched when she wrapped her arms around her torso as though to thwart off a chill. Ginny looked so small in the big clothes, her sallow face no longer radiating splendor and joy like it once did. The qualities he'd fallen in love with - her ability to appear both ladylike and unruly at the same time, her bottle, her toughness in the face of adversity - were no where to be found. A broken girl stood before him ready to crumble, and all because of him; and his selfishness.

"Harry, I don't think there's much left to say."

"There is so much to say."

_Here goes nothing,_ he thought grimly.

Swallowing hard, he told her, "I haven't stopped thinking about you. I'm sure you don't believe that, but it's true. I think about you day and night, sometimes so much I can't even bear to sleep."

She remained silent, and if Harry actually stopped to look at her, to take in her expression, he would see only fear and a piece of reborn sadness.

"I'll admit, at first it wasn't like this. I dealt with the pain of losing you by getting out there and...just..."

Pausing, unable to articulate his feelings, he allowed Ginny to speak up.

"The pain of losing me? Harry...you asked for the divorce. I don't understand."

"I don't understand it either!" he yelled, turning his back to her, missing her jump at the octave he used. Clenching his hands, Harry continued, "Ginny, I thought I knew what I wanted! I thought I was in a rut, that I missed out by trying so hard to be normal that I forgot normal was what I need. I forgot you're what I need. I forgot all the reasons why I love you so much, why I need you in my life. Ginny, you're everything."

Silence practically possessed the former couple for several minutes, Harry's heavy breathing the only sound occupying the room.

"Gin?" he finally called out, turning around to face her.

The redhead did not reply, instead keeping her gaze focused on the wall and her mouth shut. Harry felt the urgency to move forward, to take her in his arms, to hold her and never let go.

"Ginny, please," he pleaded.

Again, she made no move to answer him in any way. Her body language suggested she was one step away from bolting out the door.

"Say something!" he screamed; "anything!"

Gulping, she said in a quiet voice, "I think you should leave."

Harry hadn't planned on that.

"Ginny, I—"

"This is my home, Harry, and you are not a welcomed guest," she whispered, her voice barely audible; hurt. "Please...just leave me alone."

_Just leave me alone, _repeated in his head about a forty-five times in the course of a minute in her haunting voice. Four words brought him more pain than anything he'd ever heard, including the words of vicious hate spoken from Voldemort.

As soon as he stepped out of her flat, she shut the door, the soft click of the lock echoing in his mind as he walked down the shabby steps.

* * *

_A/N: Hey all! So, thanks to those of you who are giving this story a chance - it's different, yes, but I really think there's a valid point beneath the surface. Definitely a lot of subtle hints in this chapter - **kudos** to those of you who can figure them out before revealed in later chapters. The approach with this story is more about pleasing myself, since I love the concept of this story, but I'm hoping to make a few readers happy as well. Note - I didn't like this chapter too much (Not the ideas but the placement). I actually changed a few things around which means I wish this was connected with Chapter 1 - hence why this is called Part 2. Next chapter should definitely clear more things up._

Mistake _is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine._


	3. Chapter 2: Getting Worse

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**Getting Worse**

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Blur.

One big giant blur.

The days following his reunion with Ginny passed in a blur.

Even his words came off blurry, his colleagues unable to comprehend most of what he said. Normally Harry Potter came off rather collected, debonair even, after the divorce, but not in the past week. Harry's distraction affected him more than he anticipated, meaning it came as a great shock when even people in other departments mentioned it to him.

"Potter, you all right?"

"You look peaky, Harry, are you sick?"

"What's got your bludgers all tight, Potter?"

"Pull it together, Potter."

A few times he contemplated just heading out early, to get some sleep in order to bring his mind out of his current funk. Another part of him wanted to just head to her flat, to take her in his arms and never let go.

Merlin, when did everything get so out of control? When did everything change from some perfect paradise into...what? His life felt more decayed and chaotic than he imagined possible.

And it was all on his own doing.

That stung the most.

Merlin, it sucked too, thinking non-stop about Ginny. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw her face, saw her crying; and standing there all pale, small, and sad in an old T-shirt he forgot to take with him.

_Just leave me alone._

Her words kept ringing in his ears, telling him again and again how much she despised him.

Then again, the underlying sadness spoke more than the typical hatred toward an ex-spouse. Broken hearts often overshadow multiple symptoms of anger, but generally in the confines away from onlookers. Vulnerable and upset, she allowed him access to a side of her he figured she wouldn't share if hatred consumed her. Perhaps she didn't hate him...completely, at least.

Unable to focus, Harry left early, deciding he needed to figure out a few things before he lost his mind completely.

After picking up some dinner - take out, his customary dinner for the past seven months - he entered his too-large home, making his way directly into the kitchen. Throwing his shoulder bag of parchments from work onto the messy table, he began taking out the few boxes of chicken he grabbed near the Ministry.

"Another great meal for me," he grumbled, carrying his plate into the living room, placing it neatly over the heaps of old _Daily Prophets_ and other rubbish. Hunching himself over, he began to eat as his eyes scanned through the _Daily Prophets_. He'd picked them up from the Ministry, telling the department he wanted to look through them for any signs of foul play in the past year. Considering the shady business going down in the Ministry as of late, bizarre problems causing the Auror department to grow suspicious, they gave him no trouble.

Taking the occasional bite, his fingers deftly moved over the moving pictures of the sports section, searching for any sign of his Ginny. Her articles were prominently featured throughout the course of their marriage, a must-read for both female and male quidditch lovers. Having been such a great Chaser herself, she knew several players in the professional league and often times scored interviews not normally granted. (Her private interview with Victor Krum, an old chum of Hermione's, was one of the most sold issues of _Prophet_ history.)

Around the time of their divorce, her articles faded, a brief period where nothing with her name printed. After a few weeks, they started to appear again, though far less frequent than before. Eventually, they died off completely, about four months after the divorce.

No mention whether or not something happened, but they simply stopped printing.

As far as he could remember, Ginny never quit at anything.

Pushing the papers aside and downing the rest of his firewhiskey, he pressed himself against the soft fabric of his couch. Closing his eyes, he envisioned the flat she occupied. How different from their own apartment together.

Small and white, little life existed on the walls. In their place together, she'd decorated like crazy, putting pictures of them, friends, and family all over the place. The Weasleys existed if only through pictures. Her flat held no signs of anything, save a framed picture he saw in the corner, though he wasn't close enough to see what of.

Much of her furniture, albeit less of it, used to reside in their apartment. Several of the pieces, however, didn't mesh, particularly the kitchen table and chairs he spotted from the small living area. He figured she probably couldn't fit their original table-setting into her own place and simply bought a new one. Yet, the furniture he didn't recognize appeared second-hand and used. Harry couldn't imagine the Weasley family, particularly her brothers, to allow her to go through financial problems.

Not to mention, Ginny always made a place her own yet her new home did little to describe her boisterous personality. Plain white walls and bland tan carpet did not suit her.

Shaking his head, he rose to his feet, stripping himself of his clothing, tossing it carelessly on the floor before he threw himself on the bed, closing his eyes only to see Ginny again.

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And there she stood again, dressed in a light purple shirt and black trousers, the black souls of her shoes peaking out beneath the fabric. Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, curls rippling along her back, a purple flower tied at the clasp.

Harry thought she looked beautiful.

Checking the black band of her watch, she recognized the hour of noon and called back to her boss. (Well, he could only assume seeing as he was only staring at her through a window). The old gentleman walked out from the backroom and nodded at her, gesturing toward the door. Smiling and waving goodbye, she walked out the front and made her way to her favorite restaurant in Diagon Alley, Mystic Magic.

Harry decided to take a chance.

"Hello, Ginny."

The redhead stopped, turning around slowly, allowing her abject eyes to fall on him. For the first time in a long while he felt insecure, having her eyes lift up from his beige slacks to his plaid green shirt. He felt sixteen all over again.

"Hello, Harry," she greeted. "Don't you have work?"

Shaking his head, he told her, "Nah, I took the day off."

"Just decided not to head in?"

"Decided I didn't feel up to it. Don't you remember when I used to do that? Where I'd call in just so we could stay at home all day?"

At his words she looked uncomfortable and Harry immediately regretted asking. He knew better than to put more pressure on her, especially this early on in his pursuit.

She finally whispered, "I guess I forgot. Not all of us have the luxuries of just taking time off."

"I s'pose not."

Turning back around, she attempted to say goodbye, "Well, I'll see you around, Harry. I'm off to lunch."

Pushing forward in spite of his fat mouth, he asked, "Do you mind if I join you?"

Ginny stopped abruptly, an undefinable expression on her pretty face. She appeared both scared and curious at the same time, doing her best to mask any sort of emotion from betraying her. Gulping, she turned back to face him head on, her short stature forcing her to look up at him.

"You want to have lunch with _me_?" she asked uneasily.

"You don't want me to?"

"I'm just confused, Harry. First the wedding, then you show up at my flat, and now this?"

"Ginny, it's just lunch. A chance to talk. If you're willing, that is."

Hesitating, as she'd done the night of the wedding, she answered, "All right. I was just going to head to my usual place."

"Mystic Magic, I remember it well."

"No," she responded, shaking her head for emphasis. "I was talking about The Knut. It's an inexpensive place I sometimes grab lunch at. I generally bring my own."

"But...you love Mystic Magic," he countered, furrowing his brows.

"I can't just shell out galleons cause I feel like it. Mystic Magic is a little costly."

So much needed to be said, so much he wanted to say, but she started walking before he got the chance. Cantering a bit to catch up, he fell in stride beside her, obliging her by not pressing her on the matter. Before he knew it they were at the little hole-in-the-wall joint, Ginny giving him a meek smile as they entered.

"'ello there, Ginny. Your usual table, eh?" asked a chubby man behind a counter, smiling broadly at her.

Without waiting for her reply, he led her and Harry to the table, giving Harry a venomous glare. Deciding it best not to respond, Harry waited patiently as the two began to chat about things he didn't know. Things he gave up the right to worry about several months ago.

"Did you get a chance to finish the book?" she asked him.

"Oh yes, and you were righ'. The book definitely got scary about midway through. A bit rough on the lad, I would say."

"What did you expect? The idiot shouldn't have tried to steal a dragon."

"Yeah, well, I've got it in the back. I'll give it to you on your way out. What you have for me this week?"

"It's a new one we just got and I finished it in three days. It's called _Graze of Teeth_. Three guesses what it's about."

Laughing, the man replied, "As long as it's got some action then I'm all for it. So what can I get you?"

"The usual, Dennis," she answered.

"Right." Then, "And you?"

"Butterbeer and turkey sandwich?" Harry's voice even sounded cowed in his own head.

"Is that a question or a request?" the man growled.

"Dennis, he's my guest," whispered Ginny sadly. "Please be nice."

Softening his fierce gaze as he looked at her, Dennis nodded curtly before leaving the two of them in an awkward silence.

"Sorry about that," she breathed finally; "he's a bit protective of me."

"I can see that."

More awkward silence.

"So when did you change jobs? I mean, I thought you loved _The Prophet_."

She slouched in her chair, a sure sign of discomfort, staring in the direction of the window. "A few months ago. It didn't really work out."

"You were doing so great," noted Harry, more to himself than her.

Shrugging, she replied briskly, "Things happen. Can we not talk about it?"

Her question nearly knocked him for six, thrown out there abruptly and with a hint of aggravation. The last thing he wanted was to alienate her during their lunch, if that's what he could call it. If anything it felt like a hostile war-zone.

"I'm sorry, Gin," he said, his stomach clenching when he saw her bite the inside of her cheek. She only did that when someone said something to annoy her. Sorry bothered her? "I didn't know...I just didn't know."

"Then don't worry about it." Her voice was low; unhappy.

Sucking in a deep breath, his lungs feeling overwhelmingly constricted, he continued in his attempt to make some decent conversation with her (and to set himself up for when he broached the subject of possible reconciliation); "how is the bookstore?"

At this, she sat up straighter. "Great. I get a discount on books and a lot of the times Robert, my boss, lets me borrow books. Only the used ones, of course, since he's a very honest man."

"You read a lot?"

Nodding enthusiastically, "All the time. Hermione gave me a lot of books af—" she stopped hastily, her eyes informing him how much she didn't mean to start that word—"I uh...she gave me a lot of books once her and Ron started living together. Kind of just delved into them and lost myself in the stories. Some people take vacations and I do this."

Harry knew which word she tried to hide - after. The phrase, in turn, she didn't want him to hear - after the divorce. Hermione and Ron were her closest allies during the divorce and kept her within an arm's reach. His female best mate probably saw her suffering and decided to quell some of the anguish by giving her a new hobby. Reading fairytales, no doubt of astounding romances, came as a great escape for his little redhead.

"Read anything good lately?" he asked lamely.

"Never ask an avid reader such a question," she teased, more out of reaction than to him. "I mean, would you ask Hermione that sort of thing?"

Laughing lightly, he shook his head in response. "No, I suppose not."

Awkward silence, again.

"How is the family?" He knew it would cause her some distress, but this was a subject he couldn't ignore.

Indeed, as he anticipated, he watched her fidget in her seat, her fingers tugging on the hem of her shirt. Tugging at a purple string, she snapped it from its confines, wrapping it around her left middle and index fingers.

"Fine."

"Your family is—"

"What do you want Harry?" she cut him off, her expressive eyes finally meeting his. "What exactly do you want from me? Okay, I'll tell you, my family is doing fine. I'm the only mess. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Of course not."

"Then why bring it up? You saw my family at the wedding and you saw they were in perfect health. Everyone is the picture of bloody perfection. What do you want from me?"

Hate.

Such hate in her voice, and her eyes, directed at him.

He broke her.

Ginny never would have spoken to him like that before. He never imagined words so spiteful coming out of her mouth.

Bluntly, he admitted, "I want a chance with you again."

There.

He finally said it.

Holding his breath, he waited patiently as she turned away from him, her expression unreadable yet slowly starting to betray her thoughts. He could see the fear forming, but he couldn't tell from what. The fear certainly could stem from the possibility of him hurting her again. Her family's reaction? Her friend's?

A pink hue rose to her cheeks, flushing from her forehead to her neck. Somehow, during the contemplation period, she'd wrapped her fingers around her auburn hair, twisting her tresses between her shaking fingers.

And then she asked it.

"How many women did you have?"

Caught off guard, he foolishly responded, "What?"

"After the divorce, how many women did you sleep with?"

_Oh Merlin, of all the questions she had to ask,_ he thought anxiously. Thinking clearly, even he would have admitted the legitimacy of the question - she had a right to know. Didn't make answering it any easier.

"I won't lie to you, Ginny...I've been with several girls." Her broken expression made him add, "None if them meant anything though. I didn't have a relationship or anything. You're the only one I've had like that. I've only ever made love to you."

And then her resolve crumbled.

A crystal tear slid down her cheek, sinking just above her pursed lips. Harry wanted to throttle himself, throw himself into dragon's lair, and jam his wand in both eyes for making her break like that.

_My fault._

_My fault._

_MY FAULT!_

Feeling it couldn't get much worse, he asked, "Were you with anyone?"

The redhead was quiet for a while before whispering, in a near inaudible voice, "No. You're the only one I've been with."

_All right._

_Wrong._

_It CAN get worse._

"Gin—"

"Here you go, Ginny," said Dennis, dropping their plates in front of them both, ignoring Harry. Spotting her under duress, he asked, "What did this boy do to you?"

Waving a hand at him, she replied, "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just confirmed what I already knew."

"Please, Ginny—"

"Dennis, I think I'll take this to go. Can you wrap it up? I'll pay at the counter," she muttered, grabbing her bag and rising to her feet.

Throwing Harry a nasty glare, he picked up her plate and carried it back to the front booth, quickly scribbling down the tab.

"I have to get back to work."

"Ginny...I want to see you again. I want to...maybe tonight?"

"I have a date with John tonight," she replied curtly.

_Shit,_ he thought.

"The bloke from the wedding?" As much as he tried, he couldn't withhold the jealousy in his voice.

Nodding, she continued, "Yes. We've gone out three times before."

"Do you like him?"

"Yes," she acknowledged, staring at her feet. "He's a charming man and he treats me well. He's patient, kind, and...he saw me when nobody else did."

_No._

_No, no, no._

_Have I lost her already?_

"I don't know why you decided to come back now, but I think it would be best if you just went back to the other girls. Let me get over you, Harry. Please, _please_, let me get over you."

She left.

She left to finish work and then meet John.

_Getting worse..._

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He'd been pacing for over forty-five minutes.

Walking up and down the length of his living room did absolutely nothing to subdue his nerves, his fears.

Was she enjoying herself?

Was she allowing him to hold her hand?

Was she staring at the man the way she used to stare at him?

A fresh new wave of nausea engulfed him. Fighting tooth and nail, he forced the bile down, the residual effects burning his throat raw. Taking off his glasses and rubbing his pale face, Harry muttered to himself, "You idiot. You bloody fool, you've lost her. You had her, she was yours, and you gave her up cause you're a daft idiot!"

And he truly felt it.

Back at school, Ginny hadn't caught his eye until sixth year. At the time, he'd thought he'd been a complete mug for not noticing her before then. The following years, she'd kept his attention like a snitch. When he'd broken off their relationship for the war, he'd thought his heart stopped beating. Getting her back had been wonderful, made him feel alive again. The same rush still made his head dizzy whenever his eyes fell on the pretty girl.

"I can't lose her again. I can't do this. I can't wait."

Harry flooed to 'Quiet Grove' in order to see his Ginny.

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"Ginny?"

"Huh?"

The redhead turned her gaze back on John, the man's frown speaking louder than any words could. He didn't appear angry or even annoyed, just a little sad and confused over her lack of attention. Well, it was a date after all.

Looking down, she apologized, "I'm sorry, John. I'm just a little distracted right now."

Nodding sympathetically, he murmured, "It's Potter, isn't it?"

Not bothering with a reply, Ginny simply averted her eyes in a different direction. She stared at the happy couples and wondered if she'd ever feel the way they did, again. And if so, with who?

"He really got to you at the wedding, didn't he?"

Shrugging, she admitted, "I've seen him a few more times, to be honest."

"Really? When?"

"He came to my house after the wedding. He didn't stay long before I asked him to leave. Then he followed me to work one day and asked to have lunch. That didn't go to well either."

"Ginny," began John, staring down at his plate, "I know we haven't talked about it and I'm not trying to rush you or anything...but in regards to being exclusive—"

"I'm not with him John," she told him, finding the courage to meet his handsome eyes. "I promise, I'm not. I don't even know what's going on with him. If anything, all he is doing is making me mad and bemused. I don't get what he wants from me."

"I think I do," he whispered, more to himself than to her; though she heard it loud and clear. She kind of liked hearing it. From which angle - either his or Harry's - she couldn't tell, which caused something in her stomach to tighten.

"Please, don't worry about it, John. I know I haven't been exactly...expressive about it, but I do like you. I want to continue seeing you."

At this, John gave her a dashing grin. "That's good, then, cause I got tickets to see the new opera starring Lavender Brown."

"Lav said those tickets have been sold out for months!"

Winking, he coyly responded, "Oh I have my ways. Just tell me you'd be willing to share the evening with me this Saturday. I've got a feeling that we could have fun."

Giving him a meek smile, she said, "I'd love that, John. It's just...those tickets are so expensive—"

"Ginny," he whispered seriously, reaching out to grab her hand, rubbing her knuckles with his thumb, "I like you. I like you a lot and I don't want just something platonic. I'm willing to wait longer, much longer if need be, but I'd really like a chance with you. You're special to me...and I know you're independent and what not, but...give me a chance to spoil you a bit."

Her eyes nearly misted at his words. It'd been a long time since she'd heard sweet things such as this, other than in her novels and fairytales. Once upon a time, Harry said those things to her in abundance, but they faded through the course of their marriage. It was a moot point, she knew, given her and Harry were over. John was here and he was a great man, worthy of someone so much more than her.

"Please say you'll join me."

Biting her lip, she entwined her hand with his. "I'd like that, John. Very much."

"Good. It's an opera so you'll have to dress...appropriately."

When he wiggled his eyebrows in a teasing manner, she burst out laughing, a good, wholesome type of laugh. Still chuckling, she responded, "You're incorrigible, Mister Oliver."

"Tonight, I don't think that's a bad thing," he quipped, just as the wait-wizard returned with their dessert.

Once dinner concluded, he insisted on seeing her home. Other than Harry, Hermione, and her family, she'd never taken anyone back to her home. As much as she claimed she didn't care, to her family at least, if being honest she'd admit her shame. Sometimes she wondered, herself, how she went from being married to the wizarding world's favorite hero and a lead columnist for the _Daily Prophet_ to...some single chick working at a bookstore and living in a grungy flat. What if it turned him off to see? What if he realized Ginny Weasley, ex-wife of Harry Potter, was just a pathetic wench. Even though she wasn't sure about their relationship yet, having him turn her away would just be icing on the ruined cake. Furthermore, his knowledge regarding her came at a limit. Ginny kept a few secrets, things only she and her family knew. How would he react to her skeletons in the cauldron? How would any man react?

She shuddered to think.

However, John's insistence and determination made her resolve crumble and she reluctantly allowed him to walk her to her door.

Walking hand in hand along the gravel walk, he told her, "Perhaps we can have dinner before the opera. After all, I'll be in a tux and it seems like a waste—"

"Do I have a choice?"

"I didn't mean it like that. Of course...you...do..."

He saw the smirk on her face and realized she was teasing, making him sigh and scratch the back of his neck. "Aren't you a snippy little thing tonight?"

Truth be told, he really enjoyed her. It was the first time since he'd began courting her that she seemed less uptight, more of the Ginny he remembered as a fifth year Ravenclaw (her first year at Hogwarts).

"It's my charm, I guess."

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, making him halt with her. After staring at her for a moment, he looked in her line of view and saw none other than Harry Potter standing beside her door. Shaking her head, she walked up, John giving her hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

"Harry?"

Walking closer to the two, giving John an uneasy glare, he acknowledged, "You look great, Gin."

"What are you d-doing here?" she asked, mentally slapping herself for stuttering, for breaking down in front of him.

"I was hoping to talk to you. We didn't talk to long at lunch and—"

"And I was just seeing her home," interrupted John, staring at Harry with hard eyes. As she turned to face him, her sad eyes meeting his, he continued, "I had a wonderful time tonight."

"Me too." Her voice sounded small even in her own ears.

"I'll count the hours until Saturday, Miss Weasley."

Bending his head, he pressed a brief, soft kiss on her cheek. Ginny nodded, replying quietly, "I'll um...uh...I c-can't wait."

Giving Harry a brief glance, she walked past them both, entering her home and shutting the door, the click echoing between the two men. As soon as the click sounded, Harry said, "I'm sorry, mate, but—"

"I know," cut off John, "and I want you to know that you're too late. I'm sure you've finally come to your senses about what a cold, heartless bastard you were for abandoning her when she needed you most. I'm sure you've finally realized what a precious charm you had in Ginny, but I'm here to snap your deluded wand."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning Ginny Weasley deserves better than you. At this point, I like this girl so much that I don't care who makes her happy as long as she is happy. I just know that her happiness doesn't lie with you. Let her go, let her find some semblance of peace, and allow her to heal."

Harry sighed, kicking a rock with his shoe. "Whether you believe me or not, I love her. I'm not giving up on her."

Shaking his head, he warned, "For your own safety, I suggest you stay away from her."

"Is that a threat?" asked Harry, his hand tightening around his own wand.

"I'm not threatening you, I'm warning you. And know this, I'm not the one you need to worry about. Her brothers so much as catch you looking at her, they'll kill your arse."

Not offering him a chance to reply nor a parting goodbye, John Oliver turned on his heel and left Harry standing in front of Ginny's small home, his feelings mixed.

Getting worse...

And worse...

* * *

_A/N: Hm, this story is just coming along. I don't know why, but something about this is consuming me. I'll be doing random things and find myself thinking about creative things to add to this. Hopefully I'll have another one up soon. Oh, and what do you guys think of John? An added character, yes, but I felt I needed an OC - I thought about this for a LONG while and nobody, from ANY year, seemed to fit just like he did._

_**Note** - readers of_ A Dream Worth Keeping_ - I'm sorry! Flash drive is giving me problems so hopefully I can get the story file uncorrupted. If not, it looks like a re-write :(_

Mistake _is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine._


	4. Chapter 3: Ruined

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**Ruined**

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Regret.

The word used to resonate over the small things, the simple things.

He used to regret a momentary lapse in control, allowing his anger to take over both himself and the situation.

He used to regret waiting until the night before to start on his five page scroll of potions homework.

He used to regret asking Hermione to help him come up with two extra pages of said potions homework.

Regret came and went, but never did it eat him alive, make him want to rip out his messy hair and throw himself into a dragon's lair. His regret over losing Ginny, of pushing her away instead of clinging to his only permanent comfort, corroded his heart to the near point of rot. Harry only had himself to blame.

After his short interlude with..._her date_ (he literally cringed whenever he thought about it)...he spent a few minutes seriously considering knocking on her door, once again asking her to mull over the idea of a reconciliation. Thinking better of it, he turned his back on the shady flat and started walking toward the proper apparation point. Taking one last, longing look at her home, the place she laid her head at night, he apparated himself to his lonely, and oddly cold, home.

Times like this he desperately wished Sirius hadn't been lost in The Veil. Not only would he have beat him within an inch of his life for even considering divorcing the most perfect witch in the world, his soul mate, he would have provided some semblance of solace. A year ago he would have turned to his second family, the Weasleys, but no more. They no longer wanted anything to do with him, didn't even want to see his face on the covers of the many magazines around the world.

Dumbledore no doubt would have been a last resort with regard to girls, but even in this scenario, Harry probably would have found any words from his mentor helpful.

In this attempt to uncover one person he could turn to, Harry realized, with great sorrow, he had absolutely no one.

No one.

When he gave up Ginny, he gave up his family.

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Standing in front of the Burrow, his stomach felt entirely too heavy to lift, like someone dipped it in lead.

Could he really do this?

Could he really asks the mother and father of his ex-wife, the person he promised to never hurt and the person he broke beyond repair, for forgiveness?

Could he really broach the subject of the girl, their daughter, someone who lived a shadow of the life he vowed to bless upon her?

The Weasleys were not vain people, far from it, and never expected for their children to live in the lap of luxury. However, they did expect each child to experience an abundance of love, and as much as the person they pledged their lives to could give.

Ginny deserved better.

Ginny deserved FAR better than the pathetic shack she resided in and the miserable life she led.

Gulping thickly, he started walking up the pathway, ignoring the idiotic gnomes running across the grass, trying to trip him, and tried to come up with a strategy. Coming up with words to express his sorrow and remorse proved a challenge.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock...

_No going back now_, he thought grimly.

When the door opened, Mr. Weasley's smile instantly faded, his jovial expression changing to a somber medium. The red hair atop his head, what little he had left, was nearly all grey, the whiskers of his light beard even specked with thick grey. Wrinkles in his brows suggested constant struggle for everyone knew he knit them together whenever troubled.

Harry didn't need to guess the tribulation.

"Potter," he greeted, in the same terse voice he used at the wedding.

He might as well have told him to fuck off.

"Mister Weasley, it's good to see you."

After staring for a brief period, Arthur finally asked, "Is there something I can help you with, Harry?"

"Well uh...I was hoping to speak with you and Missus Weasley. Um...would you mind giving me a bit of your time?"

Harry sincerely expected the man's fist to make contact with his jaw at the suggestion, but it never came. Instead, the person he used to consider as his own surrogate father, took a step back and gestured Harry to the living area.

The familiar Weasley smell practically made him melt, the coziness radiating off and wrapping around Harry, a fluffy blanket of succor. And yet, a part of the house lost its homeliness. Probably knowing full well he was an unwelcomed guest.

"Molly, we have company," he called, a hint of wariness in his voice. Harry ran a finger around the collar of his shirt, suddenly feeling hot, the sweat building under his arms and around his fingers.

The bouncing step of Mrs. Weasley died upon seeing the ex-husband of her youngest child. Lifting her chin, she continued to mix the thick orange cream in the bowl nestled within the crook of her arm. Harry took a few steps back, in the hopes of being able to face them both.

"All right, Potter, what can we help you with?" asked Mr. Weasley in a monotone, shuffling from one foot to the other.

"Um, I'd like to talk to you, er, about...'bout Ginny."

"No," he said firmly, staring Harry directly in the eye.

"Sir, I—"

Mr. Weasley cut him off, growling, "Harry, I said no. You're not going to disrespect my wife and I by coming into this house, into _my_ home, and discussing _my _daughter. It's not happening."

Mr. Weasley, Ron and Ginny's father, had always been one of the kindest people he'd ever had the privilege of knowing. The man in front of him, the man with a scowl on his face so deep it probably would etch permanent lines of disdain along his jaw, patently cleaved onto the notion that Harry ruined his only daughter. The Weasley Family may never have had much, galleon wise, but when it came to love, they were never short. If someone hurt one of the cubs, expect a war to break out. Unfortunately for Harry, he was in the den and papa and mama bear were ready to pounce.

"Mister Weasley, I mean absolutely no disrespect and I would never dream of coming into your home to speak ill of Ginny."

"I don't expect you to speak ill of her. I do, however, expect to hear wonderful things about my daughter."

"But then—"

"Harry, I saw you! I saw the looks you threw Ginny the night of my son's wedding. You finally realized what a jewel you had in her, what a kind and caring person she is, and you want her back, eh?"

Looking down at his feet, feeling his stomach grow heavier and heavier, he replied, "I have no excuse for my abhorrent behavior. I know I hurt Ginny more than anyone, least of all her, ever deserves. She did nothing wrong, sir."

"Then why are you here?" he hissed harshly.

"I want...I...uh, w-want—"

"I want. I want," he mimicked cruelly; "you want what?"

"I want Ginny. I want my wife back," yelled Harry hoarsely.

Chuckling bitterly, Mr. Weasley said, "She is no longer your wife. You sought to that. Now get out of my house, Potter."

Spinning on his heel, he left the room, leaving Harry in an uncomfortable, deafening silence with a somber Mrs. Weasley still whisking the orange substance. Continuing to ignore him, she walked to the door, opened it, and proceeded to wait, telling him without words that he'd overstayed his welcome (well, if one could call _that _a welcome). Nodding, as if answering a wordless question, he exited the house, listening as the door's squeaky hinges creaked at being shut.

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Perhaps starting out with her parents had been a bad idea.

Then again, who exactly would be the best one to start with?

Facing any of her brothers seemed like suicide, but Ginny was worth it, he knew it. The same thought kept creeping over - if only I'd known she was worth it then - but it didn't bode to dwell on something he couldn't change. He made a mistake, and he needed people to understand that. People make bodges each and every day, and in order to rectify them, necessary support needed to come out.

As he walked along Diagon Alley and spotted some old house mates, he hoped for support.

"Hey Seamus, Dean, Padma, and Pavarti. How are you?" he asked, already feeling the sweat dripping from his armpits to his wrists. "Didn't get a chance to speak with you at the wedding."

"No, you didn't," noted Dean, an unreadable expression on his face.

Harry knew the two women normally would have swooped in for hugs and kisses, whispering in his ear how much they still adored him, but no longer. Instead, they flashed him looks of utmost contempt, while trying to maintain a polite nature about them. One could feel the hostility in the air like a sticking charm.

"I haven't spoken to you all in months. How has everything been?" Harry asked, his throat unbearably dry.

Shrugging, Dean answered, "Same old, I s'pose. Going to work, coming home, and then taking care of the kid."

"How is your son?"

"Doing well. Cannot wait to go to Hogwarts."

"You must be proud," noted Harry, a twinge of sadness in his heart. With all of his thoughts zoning in on Ginny as of late, he found himself dreaming of having children with her. What would they have—_no, what _will_ they look like (I must stay positive here!)? How will they act? What house will they be sorted in? Who will they look more like, me or Gin? _And as these questions ran through his head, he found himself wanting kids more and more.

Shrugging, again in a non-committed way, Dean replied, "Sure. Um, is there anything we can help you with?"

"I'm just trying to make conversation. I guess, uh, you sided with Ginny too."

Catching the hint of bitterness (though misguided about his reason for it), Padma snarled, "Don't even think about blaming Ginny for any of this. The reason we choose to not associate with you extends far beyond anything with Ginny, so don't think she told us to say this. She would never speak harshly about you, though she should."

"I wasn't implying an—" Harry tried to reason, but Padma interrupted him.

"You were trying to imply negative things about Ginny and I won't stand for it, Harry Potter, I won't. She is a fine woman, someone who deserves so much more than the quaffle she has been given, and someone who made you happy. Merlin, Harry, she made you happy! I just don't understand you."

Harry, who was angry about the entire miserable situation - not Ginny (never Ginny) - hated how his supposed friends wouldn't give him a chance to explain. He hated he brought this upon himself. More than anything, he hated himself in that moment.

"I can't explain my actions for the divorce. I have no excuse, but I know now I was wrong. I need you to understand that I—"

"Ruined her," Seamus cut him off.

Ruined?

Such a harsh, nearly malicious word, and to hear it spoken about Ginny broke his heart. To say Ginny was completely devastated, so far gone beyond repair, burned him in an unfamiliar way.

_I can fix this. I know I can._

"What?" he managed to choke out.

"You ruined her, mate," he repeated, his voice calm and almost friendly.

The sky is blue.

The grass is green.

Harry Potter ruined Ginny Weasley.

How easy the words just rolled of the man's tongue, without much thought for how Harry, or perhaps even Ginny, would feel about them.

"How can you say that?"

"Cause I'm stating the facts, Harry. Ginny Potter was a beautiful, fun woman. She laughed and she encouraged others to live life the way she did. The new Ginny Weasley, however, is a broken girl who is scared. That's it, mate, she's scared. She's scared of you. She's scared of being alone. And, more than anything I think, she's scared of dying alone, cause Merlin only knows she won't let anyone gets close to her. Even John, a man with a heart of gold, can't seem to bring out the Ginny you ruined."

"Harry," continued Dean, wrapping his arm around Padma, "you chose to get rid of your wife. In so doing, you cost us a friend. Actually, you cost us two."

"Have a good evening, mate," finished Seamus, jerking his head in the direction of their destination, silently encouraging his friends and girlfriend to follow, leaving Harry, once again, alone.

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It took Harry a good ten minutes before he regained his composure, enough at least, in order to travel the short distance to Fred and George's shop, still utterly determined to have a conversation with Ginny's older brothers. Though the funny ones of the family, the pranksters who never took life too seriously, he prepared himself for the war about to break out. He only hoped, for the sake of their surprisingly organized and well-managed store, it didn't get too bloody.

The bell above the door rang out, alerting the employees and other patrons of a new potential customer. A few people looked up and whispered at the sight of famous Harry Potter in the store, but didn't dare approach him. Apparently the frown on his face spoke volumes.

Suddenly, Harry spotted a mop of red hair trekking down the stairs, order magazine in his hand.

Fred.

Whistling to himself, unconsciously lost in his own world, he walked to the front counter, briefly lifting his gaze to scan the room for any young thieves attempting to snatch a small item. Not checking the doorway, he went back to his magazine, stopping briefly to dip a quill in some ink in order to circle a possible Weasley piece they could manipulate.

_Well, might as well get this over with._

Taking nine steps forward to stop in front of Fred, only the cool marble counter to separate the two of them, Harry cleared his throat. Only then did Fred's friendly eyes meet his, the brow furrowing and the friendliness dispersing to replace itself with fury and contempt.

Harry's throat felt overwhelmingly dry, making his words die before they even left his mouth. Desperately trying to find a way to speak, Harry swallowed several times. However, the moment his verbal brain came home, approaching footsteps halted him. Turning to his right, he saw George coming down the same flight of stairs his twin brother previously vacated.

Again, his words died.

Fleetingly he saw a surreptitious glance occur between the duo, their twin bond allowing them to telepathically inform the other of his intentions - or, in the case of Fred, inform the other of his approval - before George walked forward, grabbed Harry roughly by the arm, and hauled him toward the front. As soon as they reached the heavy door, George pointed to a board filled from top to bottom of pictures. Reading the sign above - _Patrons Not Authorized to be in ANY Weasley Shop_ - Harry found his picture, dead in the center.

Taking it all in, Harry nodded slowly before George opened the door and gestured outside. The second Harry stepped out, the door slammed on his back.

_Well, that went well._

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To say Harry felt defeated would have been a complete and total understatement. Harry felt crushed, his mind constantly wondering whether or not...

_No, she's worth it. She's worth virtually anything._

Sighing, turning his back to the store, he began walking along the streets of Diagon Alley yet again, contemplating what he could do.

_You ruined her, mate._

Ruin.

To ruin has various connotations - to damage, to decline, to destroy.

Yet, the one meaning Harry figured he fell under stabbed a hole in his heart - to seduce a woman and then abandon her. All right, perhaps she was a willing participant in their relationship, but in the end, he left her.

He did ruin her.

Fuck, what had he done?

Just as he was about to head toward the Leaky Cauldron in order to floo home, he spotted Bill and Fleur enjoying a quiet lunch for two on the veranda of the Sassy Stone. Figuring he wouldn't find a better time, he approached them slowly, hoping Bill didn't curse him upon arrival.

And he probably would have, had Fleur not placed her hand over his.

"Pleaze, Bill, letz not make a scene," she whispered hurriedly.

Giving her a quick glance, he turned his attention back to Harry standing pigeon-toed, hands in his pockets, apprehension and sadness written upon his face.

"Potter," he greeted curtly, "shouldn't you be moving along?"

"Bill, I was hoping to speak with you for a moment."

"About what? What could you possibly have to say to me? And if it has something to do with my sister then know that our conversation ends now."

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Harry responded, "I've tried to speak with your parents, your brothers, and my own friends. Can't any of you give me five seconds?"

"And I'm suppose to feel something for you cause you gave my sister four years? And then you broke her heart in a matter of days? Nah, I think I'll pass on actually giving a shit about what you have to say."

"I...it's just uh—"

"Haven't you done enough?!" barked Bill, the fang on his ear shaking with his ire. "Haven't you made her life miserable enough?!"

"It was never my intention!" yelled Harry desperately. "I never wanted to hurt her! I didn't think it would turn out the way it did. All right, I resented her. I get that it wasn't her fault, I get it now, but at the time all I felt was she trapped me into this routine. I didn't want it anymore. I know I screwed up!"

"Screwed up?! Are you serious? You think that's all this is, you screwed up, and it makes everything all right. What you did has caused lasting repercussions. I don't even know why it matters to you. You got what you wanted, didn't you, Potter?"

Harry, not sure what Bill meant by the statement, pulled a confused expression on his face.

Smirking, Bill taunted, "You thought she didn't know? You really must think little of my baby sister if you thought she was stupid enough to miss your belligerent actions."

"I don't...understand..."

"You thought she didn't see the pictures of you canoodling with different women each night, kissing them in alleys, before retiring for the night at their flats, fucking their brains out? Of course she saw it! She worked at the fucking Prophet you pillock!"

Oh Merlin, the publicity; he hadn't even thought of it.

His poor Ginny, fraught with the need to get over him, had to deal with the constant reminder of his presence.

Bill continued, "She used to see everything before they fired her arse."

Fired?

Ginny was fired?

"Just leave my sister alone. She's lost so much and now she's finally starting to get better. Why don't you let her try?"

Harry really had ruined her.

Her - his Ginny.

Ruined.

_Ruined_...

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When Ginny arrived at Bill and Fleur's quaint home near the seaside, the tension had not fully left her older brother. When she came through the floo, she found Fleur preparing three cups of tea, a particularly hardy brew specially for her husband. Her pretty face appeared uneasy the moment she entered and Ginny suspicions immediately flared up in apprehension.

"Is something wrong?" she asked apprehensively.

For a moment Fleur looked as if she was waiting for Bill to speak, but then, after he made no attempt to answer, she said, "Just 'ad a rough day at work. 'Ow are you, Ginny?"

"Fine," she answered quietly, her eyes focused on her brother's hunched shoulders. Bill's elbows graced the tables unpolitely, his glazed eyes zoned in on the cup his wife placed in front of him. When Ginny took her seat beside him, he finally managed to meet her gaze, giving her the softest look for as far as she could remember.

"What's going on?" she asked, her voice the epitome of worry. With all the craziness going on in her life, the last thing she needed was even more bad news.

He shook his head, replying, "Don't worry about it. So, what did you need to come by for? Not that I don't mind random visits from my silly sister."

Sticking her tongue out at him, she turned toward Fleur. "Actually, I came to see my sister-in-law, O' Idiot brother of mine."

"Really? What can I 'elp you with?" she asked kindly. Ginny had to admit, the months prior to the war as well the years following, Fleur really turned into a sweet woman, one who not only valued her family but watched over them like a mother hen. She found not only a friend in her but a sister too.

Ginny, a little flustered, tucked a few strands of her red hair behind her ear, her cheeks flushing with a pink hue. Bill, recognizing the glow, instantly found his heart in his stomach. If Harry had convinced her to see him again, so help him Merlin, he was going to kill the son of a b—

"I've kind of got a date this weekend," she muttered in a low voice.

Fleur, not recognizing the implication, already started clapping, smiling broadly. "'Ow wonderful! Who iz it?" she questioned excitedly.

"John," she replied, a frown on her lips, "John Oliver. He came to Ron's wedding."

Sighing with slight relief, Bill said, "I remember him. Bloke couldn't keep his eyes off you."

Biting her lip, she argued, "You're exaggerating."

"I'm not," he told her firmly.

A pregnant silence overwhelmed her for a while, her brother's eyes boring into her. Luckily, Fleur saved her, "So what did you need to zee me for?"

Clearing her throat, quite discomfited, she said, "Well, um, you see...John invited me to this opera thing and...I sort of need a dress for it. I only have brothers and...I'm not g-gonna bother Hermione on her honeymoon. I was sort of hoping I could...borrow something from you."

Bill and Fleur exchanged looks, smiles spreading on both their faces. This was a start for her. Finally, after months of wallowing and mourning over the loss of...well, the loss, Ginny was attempting to make a change; with a great guy, no less (Hermione had been singing his praises for a while now).

Taking their silence the wrong way, Ginny hastily added, "You don't have to. I'll figure out something, it's fine..."

"Oui, of courze, you can," she told her, walking around and giving her shoulders a tight squeeze.

"Actually no, I've got a better idea," said Bill, leaning forward on the table, staring at his sister. "How about you and Fleur go buy one together? Get a new dress for this special occasion?"

Shaking her head, she told him, "No, I can't afford to spend the money right now. I just want to borrow something from Fleur since...well, she always looks so glamorous. What am I saying? She would look glamorous wearing quidditch robes."

As Fleur laughed out loud, Bill stated, "You don't have to worry about the costs, though, since the dress will be on me."

"I appreciate it, Bill, I really do, but I can't take that from you," she said, her tone extremely bitter.

"Ginny, please set aside your pride—"

"It's not all about pride, Bill! Merlin, I didn't even want to accept this date because I couldn't afford the bloody ticket! He gave me all this bullshit about wanting to spoil me, and Merlin help me, I want to believe him, but..." she broke off, her eyes teary and her face growing redder each second, "Look, I'm already prepared for the time when he realizes this just isn't going to work out and I'm better off not spending the money, or in this case, yours. It's not worth it."

In that moment, Bill truly wanted to kill Harry Potter for what he'd done to his sister. Furthermore, he wanted to filet him for having the nerve to try and reenter Ginny's life. The girl already thought less of herself than Hermione thought of Rita Skeeter and it showed, affecting her in everything she did. Damn it, Ginny still had a life to live! He'd be damned if he let Harry weasel his way back into her life.

"Ginny, I want you to listen to me," he said slowly, approaching her chair, crouching down so they were eye level. "I know you think your life ended with the divorce." She opened her mouth to cut him off, but held up his hand, effectively shushing her. Once she fell silent, he continued, "You're a strong woman, Ginny, and more importantly, you're a Weasley. We Weasleys all stick together. Now I know you don't like the idea of us helping you out, you've always been independent like that, but please let me do this. John was right when he praised you since you are worth it."

Ginny didn't know what to say. Her oldest brother, one of the men in her life she knew would_ never _abandon her, told her she was worth it. She felt Fleur touch her shoulder and looking up at the woman, she pleaded for some affirmation from someone not of true Weasley blood. She needed to know he wasn't just saying it.

"Thiz will be great, Ginny. We'll find you the most beautiful dress. John won't be able to keep hiz eyez off you."

The girl barely managed to maintain some control before she turned back to her brother, leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sobbing softly into his neck.

"I want to believe him," she cried softly.

Rubbing her back in soothing circles, he urged, "Then believe him, Gin."

When Ginny left some thirty minutes later, with plans to meet up with Fleur after she got off work the following day, Bill collapsed onto his couch, his arms wrapped protectively around his wife.

One thing was for sure: he would _NOT_ allow Harry Potter to hurt his baby sister _ever _again.

* * *

_A/N: Thanks to everyone supporting this story. I know it was FAR too long for an update, but I had finals, then spring break, then getting used to the new quarter, and on top of that, lately I've been feeling a little burned out regarding my stories. I'm just not feeling my writing right now. However, I think I'm feeling my muse (a leprachaun I call Grady) coming back. So please stick with me and this story! The next chapter will be pretty heartbreaking - the hardest to write so far!_

_And someone mentioned there is an actual famous person called John Oliver - Lol, I had NO idea. I don't watch the _Daily Show_ so I found that pretty funny._

Mistake_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine._


	5. Chapter 4: Skeletons in the Cauldron

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**Skeletons in the Cauldron**

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After a long day at the Ministry following the most disastrous day with his former family, Harry craved to have a night of full sleep. The night before consisted of a rather naughty dream between him and his ex-wife, one so dirty he woke up in a warm sweat, his left hand inside his boxer shorts. Needless to say, he got very little shuteye with those raunchy thoughts of Ginny running ceaselessly through his mind.

All he felt like doing revolved around his too large bed and his favorite bowl of cereal. He'd stuff his face and then hit the sack, then allow sweet dreams of Ginny to lull him to sleep.

However, when he arrived home, he nearly found his brow lifting into his hairline. Ron was seated on his front porch, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands; his entire body stance of abject ire, his shoulders tense enough to cut glass. His eyes, though, reminded him of a caged beast, one ready to charge, pounce, and mangle the moment of release. Ron's eyes were the reason he considered just turning around and apparating dead on the spot.

_This is just Ron, _he berated himself,_ and while I'm sure he truly is angry at me, I doubt he'll kill me_._ We're still in the open for Merlin's sake_. _He'll at least wait until we're inside_.

"All right, Ron?"

The man didn't respond immediately, instead taking a few moments to simply stare at his former best mate. Harry felt awkward and nervous under his scrutiny, as though Ron could tell based on his clothes and body stance just how guilty he felt for hurting his baby sister. When he finally rose to his feet, Harry took the initiative to step around him, unlock the door, and open it, allowing his friend entrance into his home.

Ron seemed considerably reluctant, but walked past him inside. Once the door was shut and a few illuminating charms cast, a meaningful silence reigned for quite a while.

When the hush ended, Ron broke it.

"Hermione is incredible," he said bluntly, a stupid smile on his face. Harry, confused and curious, didn't understand, instead opting to listen as Ron continued, "I knew a honeymoon would be paradise, but I never expected nirvana. She's...damn, completely uninhibited and...utterly _wanton_. I love her like this and even more I love how she's only like this with me."

Harry could only imagine how Hermione would react if she knew her new husband spread this sort of information with anyone, let alone someone he no longer valued as a friend. If he spoke so candidly with him, what did it mean for the other people more close with him?

"I think I'm going to get used to this whole marriage thing...unlike some people."

Ah.

And there it is.

"I honestly cannot imagine why anyone would give this up," he said boldly, a thoughtful look across his mein. "Being in love is the best feeling ever, as cheesy as it sounds. Hermione is the greatest thing in my entire world."

Turning his back on Harry, Ron paced the room, peering up at the walls and the furniture, visibly taking in his new surroundings and checking out the new life he chose. Harry felt overwhelmingly embarrassed in that moment, like a kid caught wearing a silly shirt that seemed undoubtedly cool when first put on. Ron rubbed one finger along the arm of the couch, feeling the fabric, before lifting it up to his eyes as though to examine the marks Harry's itchy, ugly furniture dared to leave on his porcelain skin.

He felt like a muggleborn in the presence of a Malfoy.

"You've moved on up, haven't you, eh? I mean the place you had with Ginny was great, but this...you're living the life of a quidditch player, aren't you?"

"Ron, I—"

"What I don't get is how you gave up the woman you claimed to love if you supposedly felt the way I do now. Hermione is...perfect. It's only been days where I've been able to call her my wife, but I don't ever want to call her anything else. She's my best friend, my lover, and I can't imagine ever wanting a life without her. How did you just toss my sister aside?! How did you go from loving her like I love Hermione to this? Some pathetic pillock who doesn't know his bollocks from his bloody head?"

"It's more complicated than you're making it out—"

"Then fucking explain the complications to me. Explain why in the hell you had the nerve to broach my parents, the parents of your former wife, about her? Why did you go see my brothers and ask each one about her? Why in the fuck are you trying to talk to 'em at all?"

"Ron, will give me five seconds to explain? Please?" he pleaded, hoping to Merlin the man would listen to him.

He saw the burst of anger flood his face, nearly turning him purple, but unlike he anticipated, Ron remained quiet. Furthermore, he took a seat on his couch and gave him a look that said 'get on with it!'

Gulping, feeling like his throat had been coated with scratchy sandpaper, Harry began, "Ron, you're my best friend, you and Hermione, and right now, I want you to listen to me as my best friend. For one moment, forget you're her brother and just be my friend, albeit one who wants to kick me in the bollocks."

"Fine," he growled, genuinely attempting to ignore Ginny for the moment.

"All right," he mumbled, hoping Ron would give him the benefit of the doubt, "Like you, I fell in love, with Ginny. You know this, everyone does, and you know I fell hard. I was a bloody cretin for not noticing her until my sixth year, but I didn't take it for granted when she gave me a second chance. And when I broke it off at the end of the year, I did it for her protection."

"I already know that," replied Ron in a low voice.

Nodding, feeling a small degree of reassurance at his comment, he continued, "Getting back with her seemed like a dream come true and I took it in each day. I loved her with every fiber of my being, and when I asked her to marry me, I felt the exact same way as you do now. I mean I felt like I could do virtually anything."

Ron huffed slightly, not a tone of indifference in the least, but Harry decided it best to push forward.

"A...a few months before everything went completely disastrous, little things started to grate my nerves. I don't know why, but I started to feel smothered and..."

He broke off, running his hands through his inevitably messy hair, trying to find the right way to word it. No longer did he care about offending Ron, but rather he just couldn't find the proper way to word how stupid he'd been.

"I went from zero to sixty in two seconds, you know? I went from not having a family to having someone with me at all times. It's hard to explain, I swear, but I started to resent her."

"So you broke her heart?"

"It was never about breaking her heart, I swear! It was about me needing some freedom. It was about me being a selfish ingrate only thinking about myself rather than her. I should have been thinking about the two of us, I should have just spent a weekend with you and some of the boys, but instead I fucking told her I needed a divorce."

"You ruined her."

Harry turned away, clenching his eyes tightly together, fisting his hair like a mad man. He didn't know if he could stand hearing one more person tell him his perfect little Ginny was ruined.

_She's not! She's fine, she's perfect, and she'll never be ruined!_

"I'm telling you now with all my heart, my intent wasn't malicious. I didn't want her to stop living life, Merlin knows I'm not worth it. It was about me being selfish, me wanting a chance to be the teenager I never got to be, and I hurt Ginny in the process. Merlin, if I could go back I would. I would kill for a time-turner."

Ron, though he didn't say anything, battled inner-demons. If Harry could read his mind, he'd known Ron was having a difficult time, defending his sister while trying to remember his best friend stood in front of him, the epitome of misery and despair. He meant what he said about Hermione, felt love from every hair on his head to the tips of his toes, and could never imagine not feeling this way. Yet, his friend, the only person who knew him best aside from his wife, did something horrendous to his baby sister.

Ron was caught in the middle, and he hated it. He _HATED_ it.

"Harry, you ask me to understand, but I can't do that. I can't figure out for the life of me, even with all your explanations and excuses, how you could do this to someone you're meant to love. I can't do it. Sorry, mate, but I can't."

Though his words were harsh, for the first time he used a tone other than hateful, not sounding as vicious per his usual.

"I know," acknowledged Harry, bowing his head in shame.

"Look, my family didn't appreciate you coming to see 'em. They're not interested in hearing anything you have to say, even any of what you just told me. It might be best for you to try and find a new avenue."

"What?" he asked immediately, caught off guard by the connotation of his words. Was Ron actually suggesting...

"I think if you're going to do anything then you need to go straight to the source. Talk to Ginny, I guess, and give her the chance to understand."

"You're giving me permission to—"

"This has nothing to do with me giving you permission or a blessing or any of that bullshit," he said, his tone once again stark, "but about me giving my sister the chance for closure. You wanted me to listen and I did, fine, and I took in all you said. Now you need to tell Ginny all of it so she can finally know what she did, or what she apparently didn't do."

Harry's hopes felt dashed.

"Know this though, Harry, that if she asks you to leave then you better fucking leave. I get how you might need to persuade her to listen to you at first, but once you've spoken and made your peace, then you leave her the hell alone. Otherwise, I might consider giving in to what Fred and George have planned for you."

Unable to suppress the shudder at the thought of the Weasley twins concocting a plan, Harry agreed, letting him know he'd oblige.

Standing up, Ron walked toward the door, stopping directly in front of it.

"I'm heading back to Ireland. Hermione agreed to let me go since she told me she had something special planned for tonight. The naughty wink she gave me before I left nearly made me reconsider," he said with a slight chuckle, stupid expression back on his face.

Harry nodded, understanding completely. He remembered Ginny being sexually indiscriminate on their own honeymoon, one he enjoyed immensely.

Shaking his head, temporarily ridding thoughts of Hermione in sexy lingerie so he could finish, Ron said, "My sister means the world to me, Harry. Along with Hermione, my family is the most important group of people in my life. I didn't pick 'em, but I'm not willing to give 'em up though, either."

"I know, Ron."

Sighing, Ron took three steps forward and clasped his left shoulder in a gesture close to something friendly. In a low voice, he muttered, "I don't hate you, Harry, but I truly despise what you did."

Without another word, he walked out the door and left Harry standing in his entryway, too stunned and exhausted to move.

0000000

When Ginny woke up the morning following her wearying visit with her oldest brother, she still felt tired. Crying her eyes out on her brother's shoulder drained her on top of crying for months on end.

She didn't want to cry anymore.

After getting dressed in a flattering green long-sleeved shirt and black trousers, letting her pretty hair cascade down her back, she entered her kitchen, finding herself too tired to even eat. Skipping breakfast, a recent habit of hers, started to occur after the divorce.

Work didn't get much better seeing as six former classmates just so happened to stop by. While three of them actually purchased books, she felt like a lag on display with her neck in a guillotine. Each one of them - two Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff, and three Ravenclaws - stared at her like she suddenly sprouted the head of a deatheater out of her elbow. It drove her mad the entire time.

Thank Merlin Fleur arrived twenty minutes early, smiling her gorgeous pearly whites at both her and her boss. Realizing his one and only employee had evening plans, he allowed her to leave early, giving her a brief hug before she left. From the bookshop, Fleur whisked Ginny to every high-class store, moving from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade to muggle London, each place having the most beautiful, as well as expensive, gowns.

It wasn't until they reached a little shop outside of the Leaky Cauldron that Fleur finally found the ideal dress for Ginny. They almost passed the shop, in their haste to head back to Diagon Alley to purchase another dress they left on hold a couple hours earlier. Ginny didn't even see it but thankfully Fleur spotted it inside of the crowd, finding the plain gown perfect for her sister-in-law.

"It just doesn't seem like the type of thing to wear to an opera," argued Ginny, staring at it pensively.

In spite of this, Fleur took no offense nor did she listen in general, stating, "Ginny, truzt me, it will look beautiful."

Relenting, Ginny quickly changed into the dress and walked out, feeling apprehensive at Fleur's smug face. At once the woman put her hands on her hips as she said, "I think my work 'ere iz finished."

Turning around, Ginny finally took in her appearance, managing a small smile. The dress of dark purple clung to every part of her body, hugging her in all the proper places. With an athletic build and skinny frame (she'd lost a significant amount of weight since the divorce), the dress accentuated her more lovely features while masking the others she didn't particularly care for. Like magic, the fact she didn't have a huge chest became minute in comparison to the rest of her beauty.

It reminded her of how she looked back when she was married to Harry - vivacious.

When Ginny saw the price tag, she tried to convince Fleur to just forget about it, that she'd find something in her own closet; that the money wasn't worth it. Giving her a sympathetic yet firm smile, she told her, "Thiz iz a gift from me and Beel. We want you to 'ave fun. Pleaze, allow us to do thiz."

After fifteen minutes, she gave in.

By the time she got home, she felt ready to collapse under the weight of her fatigue and emotions. For the life of her, she couldn't understand not only why John would want to continue with someone so emotionally unstable but why her brother felt so confident in it that he bought her an insane dress. And by insane, she meant the price - far too many galleons for the likes of her, particularly for something she only planned on wearing for one evening.

Placing the dress on the door of her closet, the swishing sound of the covered fabric taunting her for a moment, she thought about what the evening would bring. Knowing John, he'd do his best to make her feel comfortable and laid back, something she appreciated greatly. Merlin only knows she needed someone to relax her in order for her to feel at ease; to loosen up.

Ginny figured with the dress she'd need to wear her hair up, perhaps in elegant ringlets atop her head, tied with a pretty purple bow. Or maybe she'd wear it sleek and straight, pulled back into a ponytail. Whatever she did, she hoped it would make her look half as good as the dress.

She couldn't lie, even to herself - the dress, no doubt, outshines her.

Grabbing a pair of shorts and one of Harry's old shirts, something Hermione told her could do absolutely no good (but she couldn't help wear - some of them still smelled like him), she hastily changed into her comfy clothes, finding succor in consistent things; even if only with inanimate objects.

Once she left her bedroom and entered her kitchen, she made an easy dinner of a turkey sandwich and some grapes. Fleur offered a place at her and Bill's table, but she didn't feel like intruding. After being the third wheel for so many months, she just didn't feel up to it anymore.

The moment she put the butter knife into the sink, prepared to sit down at her small kitchen table, a knock sounded at the door. Being somewhat late, she assumed only family would drop by, or else very close friends. She never, for the life of her, expected to see one Harry Potter standing on her porch, eyes hopeful and sad.

Her stomach clenched painfully at the sight of him.

"Harry?"

"Hey, Gin," he replied softly, staring at her like a man trapped in a desert who spots a beautiful oasis.

Feeling her last bit of energy and strength leave at once, she brought her hands up to rub along the sallow skin of her face. As though she could feel herself turning pale, she slid her hands from her clenched jaw all the way up to her soft hair.

"Are you all right?" he asked with concern.

Shaking her head, she chocked out, "Why are you here?"

Without taking his green eyes off her, he muttered, "I've um...I've got a few things I'd like to discuss with you. Would you mind giving me a few minutes of your time?"

"Merlin, Harry, you can't keep doing this. First the wedding, then after the wedding, then Diagon Alley, and my home, and now this?"

"I'm not asking you for much time, Ginny, please. Just give me a few seconds to explain."

She knew she _should _just slam the door, move on, and get over him. Seeing him there, however, made it all too hard. He looked so handsome standing in her doorway, in his khaki trousers and black shirt. It brought back far too many memories for her to say no.

Stepping aside, she allowed Harry entrance into her small flat for the second time. Naturally she knew it probably would only do harm rather than good, but how could she deny the man she still fiercely loved.

There.

It was out.

She _still _loved him, in spite of all the heartache he caused her.

She couldn't stop and, unfortunately for her, she feared she never would. Loving Harry felt like breathing; natural and unwavering.

Despite her love for him, she refused to feel the woes of a broken heart again, she couldn't do it - she _wouldn't _do it. Yet here she was, allowing said man into her home, giving him another opportunity to shatter her.

Once the resounding click of the door shutting echoed in her ears, she turned around, crossing her arms over her chest, searching him for answers. She hated herself for wanting to curl into a small protective ball to shield herself from him at every glance he gave. She hated she needed to protect her heart, for he so easily won it over.

"How can I help you, Harry?" she asked in a quiet monotone.

As he shuffled from one foot to the other, she thought about their childhood together, thinking of him as the young boy he'd been in the her own nonage home. While he hadn't been as gangly as her older brother Ron, he certainly didn't have the stature of the man he'd grown into. Merlin only knows the mop of black hair clashed with each part of him, especially in the eyes of his own abysmal relatives. Ginny never thought so - on the contrary, she thought his hair inspired if only cause it made him who he was and who he'd always be. His hair, just like the scar it masked, gave him character.

Gently, he murmured, "Ron came to see me today."

"Did he?" she questioned, the wands in her head already casting spells in order to decipher why her brother would ever approach Harry.

Licking his lips, a nervous intimation, he answered, "Yes, he came by earlier, wanted to discuss a few things."

"And you're telling me why?"

Swallowing hard, he said, "We talked about you."

And there it was - the reason for Harry's presence. Tucking a few loose strands behind her right ear, she let out a noticeably loud sigh. Why did Ron approach Harry to discuss her? How often were they talking behind her back? She couldn't help feel slightly betrayed by her brother meddling with her affairs.

"Prey tell, why on earth would you talk about me?" she got out through clenched teeth.

"Ginny, it...it wasn't like that, I promise. He was more or less telling me to leave you alone...when he arrived, that is."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

_Have I done anything other than ask him questions?_ she thought distractedly.

"It means he came over with the intention of telling me to sod off, which he did, numerous times, but ended up telling me to come here and talk to you."

"Talk to me about what?"

"Have you even spoken a statement without making it a question?" he asked with a smirk.

"Funny, I was asking myself the same thing. There you go, I did it, now answer my question."

Clearing his throat, he stated, "He told me to approach you about why I ended everything. Why...I was a bloody idiot and left you."

With her mouth in a severe line, her shallow breaths piling up one atop the other, she dropped to a seat on the couch, her eyes immediately drifting down to observe the few strands of frayed string at the bottom of her (Harry's) shirt. His heart tightened painfully at the sight of her, seeing her so small and, dare he say it, alone. He did this, and now she was paying the price for his foolishness.

"All right," she murmured, again in a monotone, "what are the reasons?"

Cracking his knuckles, a habit she used to positively deride and found she still did, he thought over the speech he'd planned. Naturally he knew to expect Ginny to remain quiet in the end so he didn't want to stumble on any words.

"Ginny, I...it didn't...fuck..."

_All right, out the door_._ I've already bollixed this up_, he berated himself in his head. _Real eloquent, genius_.

Starting again, "Like I told Ron, when I married you, everything worked out beautifully. We survived the war, you came back to me, and I got to spend my time living a normal, everyday life. It also became the problem."

Feeling like he needed to do something with his hands, he removed his glasses and started to clean them with his sable shirt, as he continued, "I never had a family, you know? I went from living in a house where nobody cared, where I was constantly alone, to you needing me every second."

"And what was Hogwarts? Don't you think people cared for you there?" she cried out, her Weasley temper starting to rise. "And what do you mean I needed you every second? You didn't marry a five-year-old, you egotistical prat."

First of all, her words stunned him more than anything - the last time he heard her speak with anger had been their final fight before everything went to hell and he demanded a divorce - but even more so, the resounding truth shamed him greatly.

Slipping his glasses back on, he told her, "I know, Gin. I see it now, all right? I see it and it's been killing me. Realizing I ruined my life by ridding it of the only good thing in it...I know it."

"Ruined _your _life?" she gasped out, her eyes burning him, unblinking in her fury. "You think this just ruined _your_ life?"

"I know—"

"Stop telling me that you know!" she screamed, jumping to her feet, her face high in color. "Merlin, Harry, you really _don't _get it, do you? You think this is all about you."

Shaking her head, breath discharging in rapid pants, eyes tearing with misery and wrath, she yelled, "Harry, I get how you might _think_ everything is about you, given your _childhood history_–" she spat out, like the words singed her, "–but to say you're the ruined one? No, I cannot sit here and listen to that. You know nothing about being ruined."

Turning her back on him, she walked, to his astonishment, gracefully to the closed window, opening it up to stare at the lovely view of a garden of weeds and some disposed rubbish-bags. The cool night air, however, provided her a modicum of comfort.

"After the divorce, I was a mess. I spent the first four days crying my eyes out and when I wasn't crying, I was asking myself what I did wrong. I knew it was my fault, I just didn't...know..."

Wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, looking eleven all over again, she did her best to straighten herself out. As hard as this was, she refused to appear weak in front of him - she wouldn't do it again.

"My family initially supported me, but after you wallow for so long...well, then you're just a burden."

"That can't be true," he argued unbelievingly.

Letting out a bitter chuckle, she told him, "It's quite true. Other than Ron, my family told me to get over it after the first month. Well, until I landed in St. Mungo's."

Harry's attention completely fell on the broken girl by the window, the name 'St. Mungo's' resonating over and over, beating on his throbbing temples like a drum. _Nothing ever good happens at St. Mungo's. Nothing._

Gulping, his throat miserably dry, he managed to choke out, "Why did you go to St. Mungo's?"

He literally saw her shoulders tense before she answered, "About two weeks after you left, I found out I was pregnant."

_Oh no_...

_No, no, no_...

_Please, tell me I'm not that stupid_...

"I didn't tell anyone at first because I didn't see the point in it. I didn't know how to raise a baby on my own. I didn't even know how to take care of myself. Once upon a time, I knew, but I didn't any longer. Realizing I had to take care of a child alone scared me to death."

"Oh Gin," he sighed, his voice the essence of pure self-loathing.

Clearing her throat, her voice dropping to a level he strained to hear, she whispered, "I hated the baby. I'm not much of a mother, I guess, because I didn't want a baby, I wanted you. I sat around thinking that maybe you'd come back, maybe you'd return, but I worried you'd hate me for the baby. Like I was trapping you into staying."

"I didn't know," he muttered, dropping his face into his sweating palms.

"I know that," she acknowledged, her voice still angel soft, "but it didn't change how I felt about the situation. I kept it hidden from everyone, even my mum, the woman who couldn't wait for her daughter to have a baby. My bitterness overshadowed me, I guess, and I um, stopped taking care of myself. I wasn't watching what I was eating or drinking. I didn't weigh myself and I didn't do any of the prenatal charms like I should have. Not to mention all the stress, it didn't help and then dealing with my family who all told me to get over it. And I remember going into my kitchen after this disastrous fight with my father, Charlie, and Bill, and I felt this pain in my stomach. It felt like three Cruciatus Curses at once. I didn't stay conscious for long and I fell and um, that's how Ron found me about an hour later."

Harry couldn't stand any longer - he dropped onto her living room chair, a favorite reading spot of hers back when it had been placed beside a window of the view from their apartment together.

"The healers said I was lucky. If Ron hadn't come by when he did, I probably would have died too. Instead I just miscarried and lost the baby, a baby I didn't even want until then. It was one thing to not want it when I was carrying it, but to lose it felt like someone crippling me. It made me realize it was the last piece of you I had left."

She choked on her own sob, leaning her forehead against the window frame, her face soaking up her salty tears. She'd been strong, holding off as best she could, but breaking down proved easier than she anticipated. The moment the first tear slid down her cheek, a plentiful amount followed...and she didn't want to stop them.

Meanwhile, Harry, absolutely reeling from the news of his dead baby, felt himself dismayed at the sound of her heart-wrenching cries. If not for the divorce, they'd be in the midst of baby preparation. While she spent the day eating and laughing and being happy, he would have been painting the nursery and joking around with Ron at the prospect of being an uncle. At night, he'd keep his hands possessively wrapped on her belly and together they'd argue over names, wondering in joyous anticipation what house the kid would end up in.

Instead she was crying, and it was all his bloody fault.

Only then did Ron's words finally click - _"I told you not to hurt her and you did, _physically_, mentally, and emotionally_._" _

What had he done?

Harry let her take all the time she needed, giving her plenty of space in order for her to regain her composure, at least enough to continue. After a few minutes, her sobs turned into hiccups and she rubbed her face with the back of her arm, making red strands stick crisscross on her flushed face. Rubbing her face roughly, ripping out a few strands of hair in the process, she cleaned herself up enough to finish telling her woeful tale.

"After a few days, they (_-hic!-_) released me. Hermione stayed with me for the following four, until I told her I (_-hic!-_) didn't need her help. I turned into a total bitch to (_-hic!-_) one of the people who actually stuck by me." Shaking her head, she ran her fingers through her hair, her thumbs getting caught near the end from all the tangles. She hopped up and down for a moment, in dire need to end the hiccup brigade. Knowing her the way he did, he could attest to the knowledge of her random bouts of hiccups, particularly after crying sessions.

Finding his own Gryffindor courage, he asked, "Are you...are you all right?"

At his question she let out a bark of laughter, the deep kind of rumbling one instantly knows pokes fun. When she ceased her cackling, she echoed, "All right? Am I all right?" Clutching her chest with her right hand, attempting to slow her breathing, she finished, "No, I'm not all right. I haven't been all right. I'll never be all right."

"That's not true. We can fix this, Ginny. I can fix this," he countered with fierce determination.

"Shut up, you can't fix shit. You're a bloody wanker for thinking you can fix anything, least of all me. I just don't even know what I'm going to do. I'm trying to move on and I can't, cause I'm too hung up on you."

"Ginny, you're not listening to me. _I can fix this!_"

"I heard every word you said, but you're wrong, Harry! You're wrong!"

"How am I wrong?"

"Cause I'm a ruined witch, Harry. I'm ruined."

"No," he declared, "I _know_ you're not ruined. You're perfect, Ginny."

Again, she started to laugh that bitter laugh he didn't like. Bad news seemed to follow said laugh.

Hence; "no man will have me, Harry."

"That's not true."

"Really? Harry, as modern as we supposedly are, we haven't progressed in centuries. Witches are meant to give wizards babies and I can't do it."

"You can," he gasped out, feeling lightheaded.

"I can't," she countered, a dull resolve in her tone. "I'm barren."

And just like that, Harry's world came crumbling down.

"What?"

"I'm barren, Harry. I cannot have any children."

"No," he whispered, as though pleading with an invisible source, "you're young. You're young and fertile, you can have as many children as you want."

"Not anymore. Since I wasn't found for an hour after the miscarriage started, I just kept bleeding and bleeding to the point where the healers were forced to do anything to stop the hemorrhaging. They had to end all potentiality of me ever getting pregnant again. I'm barren, a ruined witch in our society. No man will have me if they know I can't give birth. I'm useless."

If Harry had a knife handy, he would have stabbed himself in the heart. Well, no worries, it was already breaking.

"So you see, I am ruined. No wizard will want a barren witch."

"Oh no," he breathed, feeling sick.

"I don't even want to think about how John will feel. I figure he'll call it off before we get to that point."

At her utterance of the name John, he found his jealous side taking over, like a rabid beast ready to pounce. _John? She's still with that bloke? Fuck, I've got to do something. I've got to do something before I lose her altogether_...

_Starting Now_.

"Ginny, give me a chance to make this up to you," he pleaded, green eyes sparkling with hope and desperation. "I'll give you the world, whatever you want, if you just give me a chance."

She recoiled from his words as though he'd burned her, pale face scrunching up in rage. She felt like he'd slapped her.

"What?" she ground out, her teeth clenching so tight she'd thought they'd crack from the pressure.

"I'll give you anything you want if you give me the chance," he told her, rising to his feet, dropping to his knees in front of her. "Anything you want, name it and it's yours. I'll do anything for you, Gin."

She jerked away from him, rising to her feet, her breaths coming out quicker than when they fought in the war's final battle. Harry stared up at her, questioning her sudden change in disposition (not that she'd had much of one from the start, but still–), wanting nothing more than to never see such a look on her pretty face again.

Laughing hysterically, reminding Harry for a split second of the mad-bitch Bellatrix, Ginny exclaimed, "Stop the _Prophet! _Harry Potter wants to give me the world! Well, let me just pack my bags, Harry, and you can whisk me away. Let me stop everything for you. Oh, wait, I already did that six fucking years ago!"

"Ginny—"

"No!" she bellowed, pacing around the room like a wild woman, "I already had what I wanted! I had you, Harry, _you!_ Damn it, I would be a mother right now if it weren't for the divorce. All I want is to have a normal life with a man who loves me and to start a family with him. I thought I found that with you. I thought..." she broke off, her voice fading to a mere whisper, "I thought I had it all. I was wrong."

"No, Gin, you do. I'll give you—"

"_Shut_._ Up_," she hissed, looking ready to strangle him, shaking with fury. "You know nothing about what to give me. You don't even know who I am."

"I know everything about you!" he cried, still sounding defeated.

"Do you?! Do you really know? Cause as far as I can tell you don't know shit about me. You've been enjoying the freedom of being a single guy, of screwing anything in a skirt, until the novelty wore off. Well fuck you, Harry. Fuck you for coming back now that you want normalcy. Go find someone else to fawn over you, famous Harry Potter, because I'm above retreating back to you for the sake of your conscience._ I can't go through this again!_ I can't have my heart broken."

Copious tears flew down her face, seemingly unchecked by her, as she breathed like a woman after running a mad-dash. Shaking her head, her nails creating white crescents on the inside of her palms, she admitted, "I don't care anyway. Not anymore. I'm done with the whole family thing. I won't get hurt again. Maybe, if I'm lucky, John will stick around for a while and at least I can have that. It's something."

_I've ruined her._

_My fault._

_All my FAULT!_

"Just go away, Harry," she said, completely beaten down. "Go find some other whore because I'm done being yours."

"How could y—"

"It's how you make me feel...like a cheap whore you fucked until you got tired of her. You tossed me aside, fine, but go on and find someone else. I'm done."

And just like that, he was dismissed.

* * *

_A/N: Well, that was one I've been waiting to write since the beginning. Tough one, too, and I did my best to make it as real as possible, regarding the emotions. Finally Ginny stood up for herself!_

_Thank you to all the reviewers so far! I'm a review whore, but the fact that many of you are putting in time to write something of substance is really important to me. It means a great deal, and I appreciate it. Great reviews are the reason I'm getting little sleep and writing down story ideas in class :)_

Mistake _is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine._


	6. Chapter 5: What Once Was

_Current Book:_ Just finished the entire _Twilight_ series by Stephanie Meyer (and I'll be the first to admit - I was exceedingly wrong and the books are Brilliant! Yes, I'm giving it a capital B). Now starting on _White is for Magic_ by Laurie Faria Stolarz.  
_Current Fanfictions:_ "Broken" by inadaze22 (it's amazing!) and "MargaritaVilla" by Kyra4  
_Current Music:_ "I Can't Stay Away" by The Veronicas

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**What Once Was**

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_July 22, 1997  
__Tuesday, 7:18 P.M._

Staring at the sky, Harry thought about the events leading up to this point in his life. With the war finally over, he could do anything. Free from the hindrance of constantly worrying over his friends, wondering if he'd make it to another day. Now he could look forward to so much.

But the cost?

Merlin, living these past months had been hell for everyone. The joy of the victory burned at the sight of the various sufferers, bogged down by the grief of the mourners and the tombs of those who died. Friends he'd known all his life no longer existed. They were just dead..._dead_...never to be seen or heard from again. It didn't seem fair for him to celebrate, even though he had more reason than anyone else.

Ron and Hermione leaned on each other, rejoicing in the return of her parents. The Weasley family exulted over their healthy and prosperous family, each and every one of them. His friends returned to their normal lives, some of them joining Hermione in her endeavor to finish her N.E.W.T.s and complete her Hogwarts' education. The people returned to work at their modest stores, like Fred and George, who both resumed their profitable joke shop. The wizarding world went back to the life everyone knew, free from the terrible reign of Voldemort and his mass of evil followers.

Harry, on the other hand, had nothing left.

Everyone attempted to help, tried to pull him out of his depression, but it proved harder than anyone anticipated. He avoided dinners with the Weasleys, ignored the owls Hermione and Ron constantly sent him, shunned populated places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade, and a horde of other people and places just so he wouldn't have to face the reality of his life.

Alone.

Everyone got the opportunity to live again with their families and who did he have?

Nobody.

The Potters: dead.

Sirius: dead.

Remus and Tonks and Dumbledore and even the blasted, grating Severus Snape: _dead_.

Harry felt more alone now than when he called Privet Drive home.

He heard the gentle footsteps of a person behind him and immediately felt his stomach clench up. He didn't think he could stand listening to one more person tell him to start over, that he of all people had every reason to celebrate. It felt patronizing and he was sick to death of it.

Yet, he didn't expect to see a pretty mane of thick red hair glow beside him, the sunset reflecting off her auburn tresses. He braced himself for whatever words of "encouragement" she planned, knowing full well he had absolutely no intention of listening to them.

The words never came.

They sat in silence for about ten minutes before he finally asked, "Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"You're not out here to harp on me?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"Do you want me to?" she asked, turning her head to face him, meeting his eyes of the deepest, sparkling jade.

Shaking his head, he answered, "No. I'm out here for the silence."

"Well," she replied, turning back to watch the same sunset, "I'll be silent with you."

For the first time in a long time, Harry felt content.

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_July 22, 1997  
__Tuesday, 8:32 P.M._

"Harry, dear, it's so good to see you!" bustled Mrs. Weasley, rushing around the diningroom table to wrap him in a comforting hug. "It's been ages."

"Yeah, I know. Um, Ginny invited me to dinner so if you don't mind..."

"Mind? How dare you for thinking I'd mind. Sit yourself down and I'll get you a plate."

Harry, grateful she didn't press further, gave her a wistful smile before following Ginny and sitting himself down between her and Ron. His mates - with Hermione seated directly across from him - gave him encouraging smiles, Ron giving him a slight pat on the back, and went back to their dinners.

Again, for this, Harry was grateful.

The table, though quiet, seemed relatively normal given the newest guest. Mrs. Weasley returned with a plate, placing it directly in front of him, before Ginny handed him the bowl of mashed potatoes, a slight smirk on her face.

Harry couldn't help himself - he took the potatoes and her smirk.

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_July 25, 1997  
__Friday, 11: 02 A.M._

"I took Hermione on a date."

Harry looked up from the chess board, his knight crumpled in a heap, Ron's rook pushing its way into the spot. He knew Ron had done something, given the goofy grin on his face and the slight red flush on the back of his neck; but before this moment he couldn't place a finger on it. A date? His two best mates? He knew they were perfect for each other - he thought their personalities, though clashing at times, evened each other out in a way nobody else could do for either of them - but it still seemed funny to think of them together.

"How did it go?" he asked casually, not putting much pressure on Ron. If he made a big deal over it, Ron would flip, grow nervous, and could potentially ruin the entire relationship before it even gets going. He had a tendency to imagine the worst possible scenario with girls, particularly with Hermione.

Shrugging nonchalantly, he replied, "It went well, I s'pose. Just dinner, you know, and we took a walk afterward."

"Nothing else?" inquired Harry, genuinely curious.

"Well, erm, yes," he admitted, his eyes glued on Harry's queen. "We kind of, you know, kissed."

"And?"

"And what? It was a kiss, nothing more."

Harry, the ghost of a smirk playing his lips, muttered, "All right, mate. I get it."

"Yeah," he murmured, clearly glad he told his friend but all too happy to change the subject; "so what did you do last night?"

"Nothing, really. Just read a little bit and then kipped."

"And that's all?" pried Ron, staring him head on. "Just you and nobody else? Not even perhaps, oh I don't know, my sister?"

Sighing aloud, he admitted, "Yeah, Ginny was there, but we didn't even speak. She was just in the same room."

"Ah, I see."

"Sarcasm, why?"

After ordering his knight, he said, "You've been spending a lot of time with my sister lately, mate. I know it's Ginny pushing for it and she's a force to be reckoned with when she sees something she wants. She wants you to get better, I know, but I can already see the wild hope kindled in her eyes."

"I've seen it too," acknowledged Harry, suddenly interested in the light freckles on the back of his own hand.

Crushing Harry's queen into shambles, Ron continued, "You broke my sister's heart once, Harry, and Merlin knows, you had a good reason for it. Just know that this time, I'll kill you if you hurt her." Smirking, he added, "Check-mate."

0000000

_July 29, 1997  
__Tuesday, 7: 33 P.M._

"You realize my mum is planning a whole surprise party for your birthday, right?" asked Ginny, pulling her long hair into a loose ponytail.

Snapping his head to the side, staring at her with bewilderment, he noted, "You do realize the point of a surprise party is the surprise, right? If the guest knows then there is hardly a point for it."

"I'm well aware of the rules regarding parties. Hence why I'm out here right now distracting you whilst yours friends and the rest of my family chat. Since this is the last time they'll be together before the big day, they needed to get you out. I'm always the diversion for some reason, which is starting to grate."

Frowning, he asked, "Why did you tell me?"

"Do you want a surprise party?" she countered, staring in his eyes, wanting an honest answer. Determined to ride it out, neither of them broke the gaze for what seemed like hours, at least in Harry's opinion, and her inability to blink drove him up a wall.

It was maddening.

She was maddening. And frustrating. And infuriating. And everything he found irresistible.

Ending their mini-battle, sensing the victory smile she wore, he answered, "Well, it doesn't matter if I do since I don't have the option anym—"

"Don't give me that, Harry," she interrupted, her tone signaling her irritation, "the question isn't hard to answer. However, to appease you, I'll ask you a wee bit more slowly. Do - you - want - a - surprise - party?"

The hair on the back of his neck stood on edge at her aggressive tactics. He was bloody tired, and sick to death of everyone shoving events into his face if he was honest with himself. No, the last thing he wanted was a surprise party, but it didn't make admitting it to her any easier.

"Well?"

"No, not particularly."

Throwing her hands in the air, she exclaimed, "Well voilà! That is why I told you."

"Telling me does nothing. I'm still going to show up wherever the hell they want me to and act like I'm having a brilliant time. All you've done is make me dread my own birthday."

"And again, you're wrong. Don't you see? I gave you an out. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"You're telling me to bail on the Weasley family? Are you bonkers?" he asked, readjusting his dark-rimmed glasses.

Grinning, she shook her head, casually brushing back a crimson curl behind her ear. Then, "If you don't want to go, I'll make sure you don't have to go."

"How?"

"You leave that to me, little man. Just...on the day of your birthday, have fun. I'll make sure nobody even notices you're gone."

"But—"

"Harry, I'm doing you a favor, you don't have to say anything. I'll take care of it and trust me, when it comes to my family, I know them best. It'll all work out for you."

Funnily enough, though he fleetingly heard everything she said, Harry was far too consumed with the movements of her lips to register any of it.

0000000

_July 31, 1997  
__Thursday, 2: 57 P.M._

Happy birthday to Harry.

Ginny, true to her words, made sure Harry spent his birthday alone. He only wished she would have been able to join him...

0000000

_August 14, 1997  
__Thursday, 10: 16 A.M._

Harry found her deep beyond the Burrow and into the depths of the meadow grasses, sprawled out on her back, red hair surrounding her like a halo. With her knees propped up, she used them to support a hardback book, her pretty eyes scanning the words on the page with acute fervor.

When he approached her, he did so with stealth, sincerely hoping not to disturb her from her reverie. He found himself able to stare at her for hours - he probably would have, had she not spoken aloud.

"There is something utterly satisfying about finding a good book. I think the reason I don't read as much as I should is cause I can never find anything that truly holds my interest. But I think I'm going to steal more muggle books from Hermione."

"What's it called?" he asked, sitting himself down beside her, propping himself up on his elbow.

Closing the book, she gave him a bird's eye view of the cover - _Pride and Prejudice_ - before flipping it back open to stare at the dog-eared page. Thoughtfully, she told him, "Hermione says it's a popular book in the muggle world."

"Very popular," he told her, reaching his hand out to touch her hair, absently playing with her tresses.

Nodding in agreement, she murmured, "I can see why. I wouldn't mind being with a man like Mister Darcy."

"Really?" Ginny didn't miss the hint of jealousy - it felt satisfying.

"How can you not like him? Mind you, he's a bit of a prat at the beginning. A little too smug for his own good, but I've almost reached the end and I just keep falling more and more in love with him."

"Just him?"

Her attention diverted from the tattered pages of the book (a hazard of Hermione reading it so many times) to meet Harry's unsure face. His eyes, though on hers, were glazed over, miles away.

"Who else is there to fall in love with? I mean the ones that fancy her are—"

"I'm not talking about the book and you know it," he interjected sharply, his voice rougher than before. "Damn it, Ginny, stop playing games."

"I'm not playing games," she replied seriously, "and I resent you for thinking that I am. You know how I feel and you know that I never stopped feeling anything for you."

"Then why haven't you told me that?"

"Cause I want you to come to me, not the other way around. Maybe you've forgotten, but you left me...you chose to leave me—"

"I was doing it to protect you!" he countered defensively.

Shaking her head, throwing the book down, she continued, "I'm not denying that Harry and, yes, I guess at the time it seemed like the right thing to do."

"But?"

"But it's not what I wanted!" she yelled, her eyes tearing up, "it was_ never _what I wanted. I wanted to stand beside you until the very end, to support you, to do everything for you yet you pushed me away. And yes–" she threw up her hand, desperate to stop his interruptions– "like I've said, I get _why_ you did it, but that doesn't change how_ I feel _about it. You didn't trust me through any of it, not even as a confidant. Do you have any idea how that made me feel?"

"I couldn't risk you," he told her honestly, running his hand through his messy hair. "There is nothing more I can say about it and I will _not_ feel guilty or bad or anything for it. I did the right thing."

Wistfully, she managed a small smile, dropping her eyes to stare at the cover of her book. Hermione mentioned that every girl fancied Mr. Darcy at some point during the read or, in her case, long after. In spite of what Ginny told Harry, she couldn't find the ability to feel something for a fictional character when she had her own man right beside her, in the flesh, professing his feelings for her (in a very...Harryish way, of course).

Still, it didn't mean she agreed with him.

No, not by a long shot.

"All right," she finally told him, after a long period of discomfited silence, "I get that you won't open your eyes about this. That's fine, Harry."

"Damn it, you're so like your mother with the guilt-trips."

"I learned from the best," she quipped, standing up, attaching the book in the crook of her arm. "When you decide to be honest and stop wallowing in your own misery, you know where I'll be."

Harry didn't come after her.

Ginny never expected him to, but it didn't stop it form hurting.

0000000

_August 17, 1997  
__Sunday, 8: 17 P.M._

Harry found Ginny in precisely the same meadow some three days later. He noticed her keeping to herself these days, and wondered if it had more to do with everybody focusing on themselves or if it was by choice. Based on her family, he banked on the latter.

However, unlike the previous times when he found her in the meadow, he found her fast asleep, her body curled around an open book, her pretty hair blowing around her face. She appeared at peace, complete and totally serene, dreaming something beyond the wars initially plaguing her.

Dropping to his knees beside her, touching his hand to her face and pushing some red strands away, he realized he wanted her; body, mind, and soul. Everything about this girl intoxicated him and as he pressed his face against her hair, he found himself getting drunk of her mere scent.

Responding to him, she slowly lifted her eyelids, a sleepy smile overtaking her as she recognized the man beside her. Without needing to hear him, without requiring a moment for the sleep to clear, she knew, sensed even, that Harry was with her.

Without pausing to give himself the chance to chicken out or louse it up, Harry bent his head and claimed her lips in a sharp, intense kiss. At first she stiffened, shocked at the sudden embrace, before she gathered her wits, thrust her hands into his untidy hair, and returned the kiss with supreme enthusiasm.

How he'd missed this.

How he'd missed _her_.

Only when the acute need for air beckoned them both did they break apart, gasping in the wake. Harry nuzzled his face between the valley of her breasts, desperate to hold her close to his warm body.

"I wish all my wake up calls were this nice," she murmured, running her fingers soothingly through his dark locks. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

For several long moments, neither party said anything.

While Ginny waited for him to collect himself, she tried to decipher what all this could mean. If she allowed herself to get her hopes up only to have him crush her - again - the damage she endured during the war would seem like a paper cut in comparison. Getting hurt again? She couldn't face it, couldn't bear to have her heart ripped open like before.

Meanwhile, as her mind tormented itself, Harry's heart pounded in his chest so hard he nearly passed out from wheezing. Everything in his head was just one big, jumbled mess and he needed a minute to figure out how to communicate with her. He knew what he felt, knew what he wanted - he just didn't know how to _tell_ her.

"What was so nice about it?" he asked, briefly stalling.

Shrugging, she answered, "Waking up with you is always a good thing."

Nodding against her chest, withdrawing his face reluctantly, he lifted his eyes up to meet hers.

"Ginny, I...I know I um...well, the thing is...it's just...and um..."

The stuttering was nearly an aphrodisiac for the redhead, her face glowing with joy and anticipation at Harry's incoherent mumbles. Unable to stop herself, she halted his rambling by fisting his hair a little too hard and pulling him down into another kiss, sucking on his bottom lip and wrapping her right leg around his waist, making him groan into her mouth. For Ginny, she didn't need words to know what he meant. She didn't need someone telling her how he felt because she knew him as well as he knew himself.

She understood...

...and she wanted him too.

"Ginny," he breathed once she released him, his hands cupping her face, willing her to look at him (_as if I could ever look away, _she mentally snorted), "I know what I want. I just need to know that if I still have a shot. I need to know if I've hurt you too much. I need to know whether or not you can still love me."

Ginny thought each question over with the fierce intensity he begged from her. Dissecting each question, she figured out the answers without breaking the eye contact.

1. Does Harry still have a shot?

_The question feels seemingly ludicrous - of course he still has a shot with me! I've been waiting for this for how long? Come on, Harry, I thought you were a little quicker than that._

2. Has Harry hurt her too much?

_I won't lie and say I didn't spend several nights crying myself to sleep. I was hurt, dreadfully upset, but beyond repair? I think I'm willing to give him another chance to make it all up to me._

3. Can she still love Harry?

_I never stopped...and I never will._

And she knew.

Ginny made her decision.

"Harry, you already know the answers to all of those questions. Now it's time that you did something about it."

"What do I have to do?" he asked, enthralled and absorbed with her.

"Make me fall all over again."

And then she kissed him.

0000000

_September 1, 1997  
__Monday, 8: 46 A.M._

Pressing his lips gently to her forehead, ignoring the stares from the various wizards and witches strolling around them, boarding the Hogwarts Express, Harry took the moment to drink her in just as he'd done the day they officially got back together.

"I'm going to miss you," he whispered, brushing some of her hair back.

Nodding, her eyes teary, a frown pulling her lips down, she replied, "It's not fair. Ron and Hermione have even more time together and yet we're getting pulled apart again."

"I won't be far and you know it. I'll write to you and I'll come visit as often as I can. I think I've earned the right to enter the Hogwarts' grounds whenever I feel like it."

Chuckling, leaning into his chest, she couldn't help agreeing with him. If anyone had earned the right to do whatever the hell he wanted, it was her Harry.

Yes, _her _Harry.

She loved the sound of it.

"Make it soon," she murmured into his shoulder, taking a generous whiff of Harry's scent, an indulgence she knew she'd miss to a great extent. She didn't want to say goodbye to him.

Hugging her closely, he tilted her chin up and brought his lips to hers, gently caressing her without a care in the world. Screw the people staring. Screw the idiots gawking at Harry Potter. Screw the dolts cringing at the sight of Ginny Weasley with a guy, clearly taken. Harry was finally happy for the first time in a long while.

"I promise to make it soon," he assured her, giving her a few more quick pecks on her cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," she whispered, beaming at him, mirth dancing in her eyes.

Sighing, looking over his shoulder at the whistling train, he told her, "It's time to let you go. You've got two minutes left."

"Walk me?"

Without giving her a direct answer, he led her by the hand to one of the openings, happy to have even one more second with her. (He already helped her load her trunk on the train).

"Don't forget about me."

"Never," he said against her lips, breathing the words directly in her mouth. "Never, love."

Two minutes later, the train was chugging quickly toward Hogwarts, Ginny Weasley inside. Harry didn't leave the platform for several minutes, his heart on the train with her.

0000000

_October 31, 1997  
__Friday, 7: 59 P.M._

"So that was one of the better feasts," acknowledged Luna thoughtfully. "I especially enjoyed the pudding."

Ginny, stuffed from the night's feasts, smiled at the girl, not feeling the need to speak. One of the best things about Luna Lovegood, she thought, was the girl felt comfortable in silence, not finding a necessary reason to chat over everything. Of course, she'd engage in small talk whenever asked of her, but she never felt the need to smother anyone with chatter. At a time when Ginny's thoughts were running rampant - like now - it worked out for the best.

Rounding the corner, Ginny and Luna embarked on the staircase, the blonde staring idly at the paintings. However, a dark figure caught her attention and she grabbed Ginny's arm, pulling her away from her musings.

"What is that?" asked Luna, her head cocked to the side. Ginny had to give the girl credit - at a time when others cowered, she no longer felt fear. Her experiences during the war taught her not to fear the unknown. Remaining for days upon days in the dark will knock the concept in one's head pretty quickly.

Lining herself up with Luna's line of vision, Ginny spotted a figure at the top of the staircase, hiding in the dark with some sort of...material...hanging over his arm. The person's silhouette clearly defined a man, the shape straight yet toned, characterized by youth and musculature. The mop of messy hair...at the top...

"Harry?"

"Hey, love," the figure whispered, stepping forward into the light.

"Harry!" she bellowed, running into his arms seconds before the staircase stopped moving.

The moment he engulfed her into his arms, she felt well; whole and undeniably safe. It felt as though she'd been in pain and hadn't even realized it, thirsting in the desert for years, and now suddenly the discomfort ceased. As though the empty void in her life finally felt satiated and occupied, allowing her to breathe comfortably again.

Ginny felt content.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her arms still tightly wrapped around his neck, no part of her body disconnected from his.

Shrugging lightly, dropping a kiss on her forehead, he answered, "I had a meeting with McGonagall. I wanted to discuss certain aspects about Auror training with someone I trust given the job offers coming in."

"Auror training?" she noted, curiosity and disapproval marring her normally musical voice.

Grinning sheepishly, he replied, "I guess I've been neglecting to fill you in on everything, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. Explain."

"I just didn't want you to worry. It's not exactly the safest occupation—"

"Obviously!"

"—but it's something I'm interested in. I've always been interested in that, as you know, and now I finally may be given the chance to do what I want. I hardly want to sit on my arse from here on out. Without you around, I need _something_ to distract me."

Normally she would have laughed, would have kissed him, would have loved his teasing tone.

Right now, nothing was normal.

"I just can't believe you haven't told me about this. I can't believe you didn't mention you coming here!"

"Ah, well that was something else entirely. I wanted to surprise you, love. Are you?"

"I'm definitely surprised," she managed to get out, feeling lightheaded by being in presence after so long.

Chuckling lightly, he dropped another lingering kiss on the corner of her mouth. "I was hoping to catch you alone, that way nobody would know why you won't be coming back to Gryffindor Tower tonight."

"What a lovely night it is," whispered Luna, casually moving to another staircase. "I better check my clothes for winter plantares. They always try to sneak into fabrics a season early..."

"Thanks, Luna," said Harry genuinely, "I appreciate this."

"Wow, the wind must be awfully strong tonight. I can almost hear voices in it. Oh, probably just some moppe's mating," she murmured to herself, staring up at the ceiling, leaving to give Harry and Ginny the privacy they craved yet rarely received.

Realizing Luna left them alone, subtly informing them that their secret was safe with her, he pulled the invisibility cloak off his arm and threw it around him. Harry grabbed her hand and ran along toward the fifth floor, determined to have Ginny all to himself for the night.

Laughing openly, feeling better than she had in months, Ginny asked, "And where are you going tonight? It's Halloween! Everyone will be up celebrating all night."

"Exactly," he replied cheekily, "and you will be celebrating too, only with me. I plan on holding you all night long, love."

Ginny couldn't think of anything sounding quite as good.

0000000

_December 25, 1997  
__Thursday, 9: 41 A.M._

"Harry, dear, this one is from me and Arthur," gushed Molly, pushing the wrapped parcel in his hands, swooping to drop a motherly kiss on his forehead.

Feeling more gratitude than he could put into words, he dropped his attention to the paper, carefully unwrapping the latest addition to his wardrobe of Molly's handcrafted garments.

For the first Christmas in...well, in Harry's life, everyone was opening presents the way he envisioned most families would. Every important person to the Weasleys had been invited to the Burrow to give and receive gifts, each person opening one by one to allow the moments to linger and the appreciation to flourish. Harry never felt more at home, more _normal_, in his life. No rushing through anything so a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix can get underway. No pathetic little trinket from the Dursleys spoiling the joyous occasion. Just everyone - the entire Weasley clan, Hermione, little Teddy (whom was staying for the early morning before returning home to his guardians, Tonk's parents), Fleur, George's girlfriend Angelina, and Charlie's girlfriend Marcy - enjoying serenity, the first Christmas without the squabbles of war and impending doom driving them into madness and helplessness.

Harry felt...ordinary.

He liked the feeling, too.

"Thanks so much, Missus Weasley," he said sincerely, wrapping the long scarf around his neck. "It feels so warm."

"I added a heating charm on it so hopefully you lot won't catch your death when you decide to play quidditch later. I still think you should hold off until the snow—"

"Don't even think it, mum," Charlie cut her off, shaking his head.

"We've already got galleons on this game," interjected Fred, clearly horrified at the thought of not competing.

Leaning his back against Angelina, snuggling in her embrace, George added, "Yeah and with all the extra players, for first time in a long time, the game will be completely worthwhile. And since dad offered to play, we'll only be one player short each. Plus, Hermione offered to be our scorekeeper."

"Only cause she can't ride a broom to save her life," teased Ron, his arm casually wrapped around her.

"Oi, don't make her mad!" yelled Fred, throwing a ripped bow at his head. "We don't want her quitting before it even starts."

"Don't worry about that," murmured Hermione, resigned. "I've been planning on this since November. I'm prepared to watch you dolts hurt yourself and fight like first years. Maybe, if I'm lucky, Harry will catch the snitch early on and I won't have to watch for too long."

"He'll have to get past me," stated Ginny, confidence in her tone.

Harry thought she'd never looked more desirous.

0000000

_December 25, 1997  
__Thursday, 3: 22 P.M._

The teams had been divided as follows:

Team Bill - Chasers Angelina, Percy (Only fair, given Angelina was star chaser during her years and Bill, though a seeker, was a superb flyer and overall player; not to mention, their seeker easily could be playing professional), and Bill, beater Fred, Keeper Ron, and Seeker Harry.

Team Charlie - Chasers Fleur, Marcy, and Arthur, beater George, keeper Charlie, and Seeker Ginny.

Hermione, seated on the sidelines with a disgruntled Molly and a contagiously joyous Teddy, nestled snugly in the latter's lap, bundled up in yards of warm clothing, yelled out, "Now keep it clean! I know how all of you competitive idiots get—"

"I'll say," growled Mrs. Weasley.

"—so don't get too rambunctious. Remember to set an example for little Teddy here."

"The kid probably doesn't even know what we're doing," argued Ron, rolling his eyes.

"He's learning lifelong lessons and habits at this early stage in his life, Ronald," she countered.

"All right, all right," sighed Bill, eager to get underway, winking at his wife on the opposing team, "We'll play fair. I plan on winning fair in square, you know."

"We shall zee," snubbed Fleur, radiantly confident. Bill merely smirked at her.

"Yes, we shall." Angelina smiled playfully at George from across the field. The redhead shrugged, self-assured in his victory. "What makes you so confident? I've got Harry on my team. Hardly seems fair, does it?"

"Oh I don't know," Ginny said, tying her long hair back, "I mean, Harry is a pretty good flyer, but..."

"But what?" asked Harry, grinning.

"You're up against _me."_

"I won't deny, love, that you'll be quite the challenge, but I foresee a victory here." Harry's teammates, more or less, murmured their agreements behind him.

"In _my_ favor," said the redhead, mounting her broom, preparing to take flight. Everyone followed her lead and did the same.

"All right, on the count of three," said Hermione, now situated in the middle of their makeshift field behind the Burrow, quaffle in her hand and snow on her boots. "One, two, THREE!"

Throwing it into the air, Angelina swooped in to snag it and the game began...

0000000

The game progressed friendly enough, the opposing teams far too concerned with loved ones safety to get overly aggressive. The chasers moved easily around their temporary pit, laughing whenever one of them made a mistake or they managed to score a goal.

The score was roughly close, with Bill's team leading only by a slight twenty points.

"Come on, Harry, find that damn snitch!" urged Ron, barely saving a superb shot by Fleur.

"I'm working on it," he muttered, frantically sweeping every available inch of open space, eager to find the golden ball.

Truth be told, he would have had it a long time ago if Ginny hadn't been so close. They'd both been going after it, flying side by side, when he caught her scent which managed to render him a little dazed. Realizing her effect, she laughed to herself, both of their attention gone, and the ball zoomed off before either of them caught the blasted thing.

Needless to say, he found concentrating on the snitch far harder than usual.

"Problems, Harry?" she taunted, grinning wickedly at him.

Winking, he told her, "You gloat now but you haven't won just yet."

"Only cause you're too busy nattering!"

Suddenly, Ginny swooped past him, her tiny frame bent close over her broom, zooming before he even had the chance to realize she'd spotted the snitch. Quickly, he rode after her fiercely, glad she got a fair shot against him. After all, he definitely knew how to play, ride a broom, and grab the annoying orb. He'd been on the Gryffindor team for so many years, generally always victorious (when conscious) and certainly...

Okay, so Ginny was flying skillfully, giving him a run for his galleons. Speeding up, he darted around in a circle, cutting off the snitch, forcing the sparkling sphere, glistening like diamonds around the snowy scenery, to rise upwards. Jerking his broom back, he spotted Ginny closely, frantically trying to ignore her glorious fragrance.

Then, catastrophe struck.

Ginny's cloak, billowing roughly behind her from the wind power and the speed of her broom, untied around her neck and flew off behind her, taking her scarf with it. Harry got a full view of the tight, baby-blue shirt she wore beneath it, hardly the typical quidditch attire he was used to. Just the right amount of cleavage managed to distract him.

"Game over!" yelled Hermione. "Team Charlie wins!"

The moment his toes touched the soggy ground, his teammates verbally assaulted him.

"_Best player in a century, my arse!"_

"_Bloody hell, there goes ten galleons!"_

"_Harry, what in the hell happened?"_

"_You're supposed to catch the snitch! Not ogle at the other team!"_

"_What happened, mate?"_

Shrugging, Harry merely hung is head, a smile twitching his lips. Ginny stood beside him, her windswept hair making her even more beautiful. Just as he opened his mouth to ask her why she tortured him by wearing such a bold shirt, Bill asked, "Harry, aren't you supposed to be the best player in the last hundred years or something like that? I picked you cause I wanted to win. Perhaps you shouldn't have mitched practice so often."

"Yeah," he replied, pointing accusingly at Ginny, "but normally I'm not up against someone who looks like _that!"_

A fit of laughter broke out as the group walked back into the warm, cozy house, prepared to celebrate the victory (and, in the case of Bill's team, drown their sorrows) in some of Mrs. Weasley's homemade hot cocoa.

The family couldn't help noticing the change in Harry, the progress he made since the end of the war. Nobody voiced it but a great weight lifted off all of them at seeing him happy.

Harry, however, didn't acknowledge anything save the feeling of supreme gratification over the game. Ginny taught him to live again. Ginny taught him to enjoy the simple things in life, again. Ginny reminded him to breathe, again.

So Harry thought about quidditch.

And what Harry knew was that his Ginny was a force to be reckoned with.

* * *

Mistake_ is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine._


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